Chapter 308: A Smile Hiding a Blade, and Words of Beguilement

The reform of official document style, in truth, has not shaken the foundations of classical literary Chinese at all.

After all, the various parallelisms and rhymes are simply too elegant.

As it happens, in a letter replying to a junior from South Zhili who had inquired about the New Policies, Chen Renxi wrote:

In planning any New Policy, follow the Way of self-cultivation, family regulation, state governance, and world pacification — proceed from small to great, from near to far.

Before action, first build momentum, then gather all opinions; search out the hidden and subtle, and repeatedly game out the possibilities.

During action, let all departments act as one, strength issuing from a single point; with the force of a thunderbolt, ensure certain success.

After action, clearly distinguish merit from fault, faithfully reward and punish; examine the past to know the future, and extend the lessons to all under Heaven.

Cycle through this, and so long as you hold a rectified heart, what undertaking is impossible, what abuse cannot be swept away?

All juren who have registered under a borrowed native place: return at once to the Imperial Academy to resume your studies — do not lead yourselves astray!

All government students: you too may come to the capital to witness this grand occasion — do not miss it!

Come quickly! Come quickly!

Between the lines of this letter, there was certainly a faint hint of lifting up juniors, but was it not also an invitation to join in a glorious undertaking? Favoring one's fellow provincials, raising up juniors, drawing in disciples — these have always been things unavoidable and difficult to root out in officialdom. When the Emperor casts down bait and offers a vision, fish will naturally swarm and climb upward, leaping the Dragon Gate together.

The one thing Chen Renxi did not mention in his letter was the sheer exhaustion of the New Policies…

Or perhaps he did not conceal it, but simply never felt exhausted himself…

During this New Year holiday, Chen Renxi and Mao Yuanyi, having finished the grand court assembly, did not hurry off to their leave — they had, in fact, come bearing work assignments. In the bitter cold, they came up onto this gate tower to drink the northwest wind and watch the hot-air balloon ascent they had already seen before.

For no other reason than to confirm one critically important piece of data for the war games:

When the hot-air balloon — this novel contrivance — first appears on a localized battlefield, just how great a collapse in enemy morale can it cause!

They had now observed for half the day. Though they had not spoken aloud, each already knew in his heart what the final result was.

"Unexpected, yet entirely reasonable," Mao Yuanyi said.

Chen Renxi nodded in agreement:

"Indeed. The more civilized, the less afraid… and as for the Mongols' reaction…"

The envoys were right before them; even speaking in low voices, they could hardly be too explicit.

Yet for all the commotion, those who panicked and cried out in alarm were only the envoys from the west — which in itself suggested that this particular result was not terribly ideal. Of course, the envoys from each realm present here were naturally among the relatively elite of the outer vassals, and cannot be taken as representative of how their common foot soldiers would react. But merely observing their shock on the scene, their instantaneous grasp of what the hot-air balloon was, could still serve as an indirect reference. The Mongols… were actually this civilized; then the Jurchen likely were not far behind.

The two men fell silent for a moment, watching as the flame beneath the hot-air balloon gradually shrank and the envelope began to show signs of descending.

"Let's watch a while longer… don't rush to a conclusion."

Mao Yuanyi patted the city wall brick, as if trying to find some confidence for himself, and for this project.

"In these past few war-game sessions, a lot of the data wasn't actually nailed down — it didn't feel quite right when we ran them."

"Once the experiments have run a few more times and the data is set, we'll try again."

"Whatever the case, His Majesty has very high expectations for this thing — we can't lightly sentence it to death."

The Eternal Chang Emperor, at the very start, had even dreamed of building a sea of hot-air balloons to bomb Shenyang…

Regrettably, the current performance of the hot-air balloon truly poured a bucket of cold water over him.

Chen Renxi drew a deep breath and nodded:

"Mm. When the new data comes out, pull me in for a meeting to look it over together."

"Who's to say this thing doesn't still have room for improvement?"

"After all… this matter has only just begun, hasn't it?"

Mao Yuanyi nodded, casting one last glance at the myriad expressions on the faces of the envoys from every land.

"Let's go. There's nothing more worth seeing here."

"Victory goes to the side that calculates more; the side that calculates less will not win. This hot-air balloon, in the end, is merely the 'extraordinary,' not the 'orthodox.' Rather than stand here watching the spectacle, better to go back and calculate a few more moves." Hearing this, Chen Renxi immediately caught his meaning, and his tone grew invigorated.

"Brother Zhisheng, you mean… head back to the Secretariat and push a round?"

"But with only the two of us, how do we play? Who will be the umpire? In war games, without a fair umpire, there's no point." Mao Yuanyi chuckled and said:

"I've also asked Yang Ziwei (Yang Sichang's courtesy name) to join — he volunteered to 'work overtime' as well."

"The three of us can take turns as umpire today!"

Chen Renxi now had no further doubts. He slammed his hand hard against the battlement:

"Fine — a volunteer for overtime!"

"Then what are we waiting for! Let's go, quickly — don't let anyone else grab the war-games room!"

Ever since Sun Chuanting had tinkered out the rulebook for "war games,"

this thing had rapidly surpassed the recently invented "Game of Factional Strife" to become the most popular game in the Secretariat.

After all, fighting on paper — devising stratagems within the command tent to decide victory a thousand li away — this was the ultimate romance carved into the bones of every man of letters. Even if they had never led troops or cut down a man, who among them had not, in his youth, cut down the wild grasses of the countryside?

By comparison, the Game of Factional Strife was too self-forgetting to play; it easily exposed one's true nature, and even more easily exposed one's intelligence.

Except for a few deeply addicted individuals who formed fixed play groups, the rest of the secretaries gradually lost interest.

Yet after this Game of Factional Strife fell out of favor among officials, it instead spread and became popular among the juren and Imperial Academy students in the capital.

After all, officials truly had no need to cosplay as officials, to role-play factional strife — they lived inside factional strife every day. The juren and Imperial Academy students, on the other hand, were instead keen on this role-playing game that let them taste the flavor of officialdom in advance.

The departure of the two men was like a single drop of water merging into the sea — unnoticed by any of the envoys.

Only Hong Chengchou's gaze flickered slightly, lingering for an instant on their vanishing backs before he withdrew his eyes.

He, too, actually wanted to push a round, but his own duties were simply too busy — regrettably, to this day he had never once managed to play.

Especially those sessions where His Imperial Majesty had attended in person…

Hong Chengchou could only stand to the side and watch as the officers of the Valiant Guard Camp beat the Eternal Chang Emperor until the blossoms fell from the branches.

This was not because the Valiant Guard officers were so bold as to dare deny His Imperial Majesty face.

Rather, the Eternal Chang Emperor had set himself as the "lower bound" of war-gaming ability — anyone who lost to him, the lower bound, would have points deducted in the monthly evaluation. Truly absurd, yet perfectly reasonable Eternal Chang style…

Hong Chengchou felt a pang of envy in his heart, then turned and called his subordinates over, beginning to soothe those western barbarian envoys who had been frightened badly enough.

Before long, the commotion atop the gate tower gradually subsided.

With no one left shrieking on the sidelines, everyone could finally speak properly.

The Joseon envoy, Zheng Douyuan, spoke first, his tone brimming with barely restrained excitement and ingratiation:

"This humble envoy congratulates the Great Ming! Congratulates His sagacious Majesty!"

"Such a creation seizes the very artifice of heaven and earth — it truly surpasses the ancients! Truly a feat no predecessor could accomplish!"

"But I wonder…"

As he spoke, he watched Hong Chengchou's expression, and just as he was about to shift tack and probe the price of this divine object —

He was rudely cut off by another voice.

"Assistant Minister Hong! Have you brought us here to see this in order to intimidate us?"

"Does your Great Ming intend to use this thing to strike at us?"

Zheng Douyuan turned his head in astonishment. The speaker was none other than Ligdan Khan's envoy, Guiyingqia.

His face was ashen; he had clearly grasped the greatest use of this hot-air balloon — though his reading of it was somewhat distorted.

Almost everyone, the moment they saw this thing, immediately thought of dropping objects from above.

Yet by voicing his challenge while attempting to pull everyone onto the same side, he showed considerable cunning.

Hearing this, Hong Chengchou did not grow angry, but instead laughed heartily:

"Why would the honored envoy say such a thing?"

"His Majesty embraces all under heaven, regarding the four seas as one family. Every people are subjects living under his rule — unless they rebel, how can the word 'strike' even be spoken? Over in Liaodong, the Jianzhou rebels — only there can one speak of suppressing rebellion. Where else is there any need to speak of 'striking'?"

Hong Chengchou stepped forward, closing the distance:

"What is more, even if we truly meant to strike… in the recent Battle of Qingcheng, did our Great Ming employ this hot-air balloon?"

"Six thousand armored cavalry shattered the Chahar army of thirty thousand in a quarter of an hour — in that, did we borrow even the slightest fraction of this balloon's power?" At a diplomatic negotiating table, words are mere ornament; swords and spears are the true foundation of justice.

These words not only tore open the Chahar tribe's scars, but also served as a warning to the Mongol Right Wing beside them.

After all, a Great Ming that could thrash Chahar could naturally, by the way, thrash the Prince of Shunyi as well.

Guiyingqia was so stung that his breath caught in his throat, but he had come bearing Ligdan Khan's hopes, after all.

On one hand, he was to ease relations with the Great Ming; on the other, he was to ease relations with the Mongol Right Wing.

Between the two, truth be told, the Mongol Right Wing was even somewhat more important than the Great Ming.

For in the wars of the steppe, only men of the same stock can ever root each other out.

The Han have always been able to break them, but never to annihilate them.

And on the other side, the Later Jin stirred restlessly — speaking of peace on one hand, while cordially inviting a joint plundering of the Great Ming.

Yet at the same time, the Later Jin ceaselessly absorbed tribes that broke away from Chahar, which truly set one's heart trembling.

Therefore, stabilizing the Great Ming and drawing in the Mongol Right Wing were the true priorities of his mission.

As for whether it was too strange to seek rapprochement right after a fight… one can only say that you still understand too little of steppe culture.

"But… do your Han newspapers not speak of something called 'the struggle between man and land'?"

"Do they not say that the grain of this world will surely prove insufficient to feed its people?"

"Since grain is insufficient, if you do not strike outward at us, if you do not seize our grazing lands, where will you find land to grow grain?!" The thrust Guiyingqia delivered was sharp indeed, drawing blood and striking straight at the heart of the matter.

The western barbarians, who had originally been utterly indifferent to Great Ming current affairs, now all pricked up their ears.

The Joseon envoy Zheng Douyuan, the Mongol Prince of Shunyi, Omubu, and many other envoys all turned their gazes squarely toward Hong Chengchou.

Guiyingqia's question had precisely voiced the question they all wished to ask but dared not.

Ever since entering the capital,

all the outer barbarians had been shocked by the changes in the Great Ming.

It was not the roads and regulations.

That the Han have money and love cleanliness is a perfectly normal thing.

What shocked them most…

was that the Interpreters' Institute and the Court of State Ceremonial no longer solicited bribes from outer barbarians!

The sky has fallen! How was this accomplished? Could this still be called the bearing of the suzerain state? And amid their shock, the clamorous stirrings of the new policies were truly impossible to ignore.

The world is interconnected; when one intends to do great things, there is simply no way to keep them hidden.

And these outer barbarians, being shocked, were bound to try to gather intelligence.

And once they began gathering intelligence, they could not possibly overlook the original source of these new policies —

the "struggle between man and land" proposed by the Eternal Prosperity Sovereign Lord… after his ascension to the throne!

A weak but gentle Great Ming is an amiable suzerain.

But a strong and hungry Great Ming — that is a man-eating beast!

This principle was understood all too well by the many outer vassals whom the Han had beaten for years.

Yet, upon hearing this, Hong Chengchou burst into loud laughter once more.

"An excellent question!"

He looked around, his gaze sweeping across the face of every envoy, his eyes brimming with sincerity.

"This matter, I had originally intended to discuss in detail with each of you after the holiday, once the Court of Colonial Affairs opened its offices."

"But since the honored envoy has now raised it, to clarify it in advance and set the record straight is no bad thing."

He was about to speak when he saw another stir among the crowd of western barbarians opposite him.

"A god… a god has fallen from the sky!"

Hong Chengchou turned his head to look and saw that the flame beneath the hot-air balloon had diminished, and the enormous sphere was slowly descending.

He shook his head, paid no further mind to these superstitious foreign monks, and turned his gaze back to Guiyingqia.

"Your envoy knows the first part, but not the second."

"Is more land always better?"

"The Han have a saying: 'Oranges grown south of the Huai are sweet oranges; grown north of the Huai, they turn to bitter trifoliate.' A place's soil and water nourish its own kind of people — does Your envoy truly not grasp this principle?"

"When Han people go to the steppe, to survive, they become Mongols; when Mongols enter the Central Plains, to live, they become Han." "To put it plainly, did our Great Ming never conquer the steppe? In the early days of the dynasty, the Hongwu and Yongle Emperors pursued the fleeing northern remnants — the Mongol Yuan court was driven to the bitter cold wastes north of the desert and dared not even pause there. Is that false?"

Hong Chengchou spread his hands, his face full of helplessness:

"And the result? We conquered it, but our Great Ming didn't want it!"

"Why? The root of it is that steppe land is only suited for herding, not for farming. If the Han took it, apart from wasting coin and grain on garrison troops, what use would it be?" "And take that place Ü-Tsang — did the Tang dynasty not march up there?"

"But that region is rife with miasmic vapors. The moment Han people go there, their heads split with pain — they simply cannot stay. What use is a place like that?"

He explained this in simple yet profound terms, reasonable and well-grounded.

The many envoys listened, all deep in thought, nodding one after another.

Though the ancients lacked modern concepts like geopolitics or the cost of rule, principles like "unaccustomed to the climate" and "beyond the reach of one's whip" were things everyone understood from direct experience.

Watching Hong Chengchou's frank and forthright manner, even Guiyingqia's taut expression softened somewhat.

However…

This was a lie!

A thoroughgoing strategic deception!

These arguments, back when the Secretariat debated the solution of "punitive expeditions in all four directions," had long been discussed and torn apart until they were worn threadbare.

The final conclusion was — under current technological conditions, there was indeed no rush to directly annex, but that did not mean never annexing.

The Han people first lived only in the Yellow River basin, then they fought their way to the Yangtze.

And later still, even Yunnan and Liangguang — barbarian lands in the eyes of the ancients — have now been brought under the kingly sway, haven't they?

If you go today and tell a Cantonese man he is a barbarian, he'll throw you and a Fujianese into the same pot and cook you on the spot!

So, who knows what the future holds?

What if there were better roads? Faster means of communication? Bigger and faster ships? Medical arts better able to counter miasmic vapors?

Would it not then be possible to push the dynasty's borders out by another ring?

Judging from the historical materials the Hanlin Academy has collated, this thesis seems to be correct.

The lower bound of a realm's borders is set by the advance of the kingly sway, but its upper bound is determined by technological innovation.

His Majesty the Yongchang Emperor knew this perfectly well, but it was not convenient for him to simply toss out the conclusion, so he just buried his head and furiously climbed the technology tree.

The ministers, vaguely seeming to understand and yet not fully understanding, were nonetheless brimming with confidence and followed the Emperor in furiously climbing it too.

But these words, naturally, could not be spoken to the barbarians of the four quarters.

After all, what kind of reasoning is it to, before even lifting a hand, shout in someone's face, "Sooner or later I'll swallow you whole, bones and all"?

The juren and Imperial Academy students among the common folk can vent their feelings like that, shouting that even at the ends of the earth they must be punished.

But the lords at court must drape a veil of tender warmth over this blood-dripping expansion.

Seeing that the moment was about right, Hong Chengchou pressed further:

"Thus our Great Ming has never walked the hegemonic path of punitive conquest, but the sage's path of the kingly sway!"

"And this path of the kingly sway rests upon four words: 'mutual exchange of goods.'"

"This is precisely why His Majesty has had you all come to witness this ceremony today."

Hong Chengchou stretched out his hand toward the hot-air balloon that was now descending, his voice rising with fervor: "This art of flying — over these past several thousand years, who has ever achieved it?"

"Only our Great Ming has achieved it!"

"This is ironclad proof that the Mandate of Heaven has come to rest upon Great Ming!"

"Since the Mandate of Heaven rests with Great Ming, Great Ming's surpassing excellence is not in this single path of flight alone, but even more in the myriad great paths of agricultural science, medical science, and the investigation of things!" He looked at the assembled envoys and strove to paint a bright future:

"All vassals of our Great Ming, if they are reverent and obedient, Great Ming shall naturally select good physicians and pick fine seed strains to help them increase their produce and withstand famine and disaster." "In this way, the illnesses of the steppe's cattle and sheep shall diminish, and their breeding and multiplying shall increase."

"And our Great Ming's grain, cloth, and iron pots shall likewise increase."

"Through mutual exchange, the Mongols shall gain rice and grain to eat, free from the worry of hunger; Great Ming shall gain cattle, sheep, hides, and wool to use, filling the substance of the state treasuries."

"Thus, is this not precisely joining hands to advance together, striding together upon the broad and prosperous road to common moderate comfort?"

— This sentence, too, was a lie!

The so-called kingly sway, on the surface, was pegged to the "degree of deference," but in reality it was pegged to the "degree of threat" and the "degree of assimilation."

If a neighboring vassal were rising steadily, with clean governance and advanced technology, yet was incomparably deferential and incomparably admiring toward Great Ming —

would Great Ming go and send it warmth?

Dream on!

How could today's closeness guarantee tomorrow's closeness?

Even a vassal as deferential as Joseon — Great Ming had never in truth relaxed its squeezing and extortion of it.

Therefore, Great Ming would only, before this "excellent vassal" grew up, find a pretext to beat it to death with one club, or use economic means to drain its blood. Only those who had had their spines broken, who were willing to accept Sinicization, who were willing to become raw-material producers for Great Ming — "Mongol Great Ming people," "Joseon Great Ming people" — only those were, in Great Ming's heart, "brothers."

And the present Mongol Right Wing was precisely the first test subject of this grand strategy of "the kingly sway."

Having finished, Hong Chengchou's face revealed a smile as warm as a spring breeze, and he looked at Guiyingqia:

"Such, then, is Great Ming's thinking."

"The kingly sway first, aiding and supporting each vassal, advancing together toward common moderate comfort."

"The true king excludes none from his realm; the four seas are one family, united in heart and greatly governed."

"We hope the Chahar tribe will not misunderstand His Majesty's painstaking intentions…"

Guiyingqia's eyes darted wildly; he instinctively sensed something was off and was about to open his mouth to retort.

He did not expect that before the echo of Hong Chengchou's words had faded, Hong Chengchou leaned slightly forward and added softly: "Of course… even more, do not bring error upon yourselves." Guiyingqia's pupils abruptly contracted.

If the preceding words still carried a hint of what the Han often called "subduing others by virtue," this sentence… was naked threat. The atmosphere atop the gate tower seemed, for a moment, to freeze solid.

Yet, in the midst of this deathly silence—

Suddenly, the sound of applause rang out.

Clap, clap, clap.

No, not from atop the gate tower.

It came from the open ground before Guangqu Gate!

On that open ground, Song Yingxing, looking somewhat disheveled, clambered out of the hanging basket.

He staggered to his feet, straightened his rumpled robes and hat, and toward the common folk gathered all around, cupped his hands in a deep, solemn salute.

(A cheeky aside: I have exited the capsule, and I am in good condition!)

In a single instant, the long-suppressed atmosphere, like a volcano erupting, was utterly ignited!

No one knew who started clapping first, then came the second, the third!

The common folk within the capital clapped; those who had come from the metropolitan counties, originally unfamiliar with this "newfangled courtesy," were also swept up by the fervent mood and clapped their hands with all their might.

Further back, those whose view was blocked, though they could not see, knew the landing was safe, and began to clap as well.

In the gate tunnel, Wu Yanzuo, who had witnessed the launch, forgot his own troubles and clapped furiously too.

A demonstration like this hot-air balloon was a rare spectacle one could watch without having to squeeze to the front row.

The wealthy bumpkins who had paid on the wall's rampart walkway, along with the Qian family, were clapping too.

The applause surged like a tide, wave upon wave spreading outward, until it engulfed the towering gatehouse.

Amid this mountain-toppling, sea-overturning roar, the Joseon envoy Jeong Duwon was the first to react and join in, with the many southwestern chieftains following close behind. Then came Ombu of the Mongol Right Wing and the several Jǐ who had accompanied him.

They exchanged glances, and joined the ranks of the applauding as well.

Even those Western barbarians from Ü-Tsang and Turpan, though they did not quite understand, caught up in the atmosphere, learned to clap along.

Hong Chengchou raised his gaze and looked toward the only person in the entire scene who had not yet stirred: Güyeng Qatun.

And then he saw Güyeng Qatun, hesitating, wavering, slowly raise her hands as well.

Applause rang out!

Very good… one who recognizes the times is a wise man indeed.

Hong Chengchou withdrew his gaze with satisfaction, raised his hands, and was the very last to join this ocean of applause.

The first year of Yongchang, the first day of the first month.

On this day, the torrent of history propelled by a series of meticulously woven "lies" from Zhu Youjian, a transmigrator from a later age, driven by chain reactions—

At last broke free of the capital, no longer confined to the mere bounds of Northern Zhili.

But rather, riding this ascending hot-air balloon, riding this sky-filling applause,

Began to be pushed onward, rolling forth toward the entire realm.

This time, it was truly… the whole realm.

The entire realm!