Chapter 33: A Man Without Trust Cannot Stand; an Army Without Trust Cannot Fight

Soon, the aroma of food drifted through the air.

The cooks carried out pot after large pot, delivering the meal onto the parade ground.

Zhu Youjian stepped down from the review platform to inspect it personally.

The grain was golden millet rice, steamed so each grain stood distinct, its fragrance rich.

The dish was a great pot of hodgepodge stew — chunks of pork and radish cut large, stewed to tender softness in a thick, rich broth, with a heavy layer of glistening fat floating on top.

In these times of scarce clothing and food, a meal like this was, for these common soldiers, no less than an imperial feast.

In truth, Zhu Youjian suspected that this was not the Capital Camps' daily fare at all.

Most likely, seeing that he was visiting today, they had temporarily added an extra meal.

But no matter — however they put on a show, the soldiers' gratitude would all converge on him alone.

Zhu Youjian nodded with satisfaction.

He turned and addressed the assembly in a clear voice: "Form up by file and receive your meal in order! The soldiers eat first; once they have finished, the File Leaders eat!"

He looked toward Xu Yingyuan and ordered: "You will personally supervise. Anyone who disrupts the line or cuts in and scrambles for food shall be stripped of all rewards!"

"As commanded!"

Xu Yingyuan answered loudly and at once began organizing the men into lines.

With the Emperor's command and the threat of expulsion from the ranks, the warriors who had just moments ago been in disorder instantly became orderly and disciplined.

Grouped by their respective File Leaders, they formed neat column after column and stepped forward in turn to receive their meal.

Zhu Youjian stood to one side, watching coldly for a long while.

What surprised him was that throughout the entire process, not a single person caused trouble, not a single person scrambled or fought.

Everyone queued quietly; after receiving their food, they moved aside and ate in great mouthfuls, their faces brimming with satisfied smiles.

This… was not what he had imagined.

Judging from his past-life experience organizing many large-scale events, even in the extremely civilized later age, line-jumping and making a scene were unavoidable.

All the more so for these illiterate common soldiers of the Ming dynasty.

Shouldn't a few troublemakers have jumped out to challenge the rules by now, so he could make an example of them and conveniently establish discipline?

Yet the scene before his eyes was orderly to an almost uncanny degree.

Puzzled, he turned his head and looked at Sun Yingyuan, who was standing beside him, staring longingly at the food pots, his stomach growling with hunger.

"Yingyuan, why has no one caused trouble or fought over the food?"

Sun Yingyuan had been stretching his nose out, inhaling the distant aroma of food like a storm wind, when the Emperor's sudden question caught him off guard; it took him a moment to react.

He scratched his head and asked back, somewhat baffled: "What's there to fight over? Your Majesty is still standing right here — everyone can see that. Could anyone possibly go short of a meal?"

That one sentence struck Zhu Youjian like a sudden awakening, and in an instant he understood completely.

Indeed.

How had he forgotten this point?

In the end, it all came down to one word: trust.

Because he, the Emperor, was still standing here; because he had just meted out rewards and punishments with perfect clarity; because he had used his own credibility as the Son of Heaven of the Great Ming to guarantee this one small meal.

Therefore, no one dared make trouble, and no one would distrust him.

Using the Emperor's credibility to guarantee the fairness of a single meal — this was truly using a butcher's ox-cleaver to kill a chicken, a colossal waste of resources.

Zhu Youjian could not help shaking his head, finding his own rigid, mechanical thinking a little laughable.

He silently recited in his heart: A man without trust cannot stand; an army without trust cannot fight.

The ancients did not deceive me.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he strolled to the other side of the parade ground, where the soldiers who had not been selected were also eating.

The food here looked much the same as on the warriors' side — likewise millet rice — only the pots lacked that enticing meat; but each man still had a few salted vegetable roots.

Seeing the Emperor approach, the men, who had been wolfing down their food, involuntarily slowed their movements, their eyes carrying a trace of awe and unease.

Zhu Youjian said nothing; he merely looked around quietly for a moment, then turned and walked back to the warriors' side.

By now, most of the soldiers had finished eating and were gathered in twos and threes, savoring the lingering taste of meat in their mouths.

Zhu Youjian gestured for Sun Yingyuan, the newly appointed File Leaders, and the assisting palace attendants to step forward and eat.

Once everyone had finished eating, Zhu Youjian then stepped forward, intending to ladle a bowl for himself and taste the flavor of this communal pot.

Yet the moment he moved, Gao Shiming, like a phantom, silently beat him to it by a step and appeared before him bearing a tray.

On the tray was a bowl of rice that had long since been served.

The bowl was a white jade bowl brought from the palace, crystal-clear and spotlessly clean.

The rice was still the millet rice from the pot, but it had been carefully selected, without a single grain of scorched crust.

Atop the rice was a thick, heaped layer of pork, fat and lean intermingled — clearly the choicest portions skimmed from the pot.

"Your Majesty, this portion… has already been tested."

Gao Shiming lowered his head and said softly.

Zhu Youjian's hand, reaching for the ladle, froze in midair.

He stared at this bowl of "specially handled" rice before him, and for a moment, he felt dazed.

Only then did it strike him sharply: he was, after all, the Emperor.

He could wear the same clothes as the officers and soldiers, he could eat food cooked in the same pot as theirs — but he could never truly "share their hardships" with them.

Because he was the sovereign, and they were his subjects.

This invisible chasm had existed from the very moment he sat upon the dragon throne.

An inexplicable wave of emotion surged in his heart, and he sighed softly.

Does the shifting influence of power and position alter only the scholar-official?

Power and status — it was not only those civil officials and military officers who were changed by them. He himself was caught in it too, unable to break free.

"Companion Gao, you are most thoughtful."

In the end, he still took that bowl of rice. He said nothing more, just stood there silently, eating the rice one mouthful at a time.

All around him, the warriors' ranks, which had still been somewhat noisy, fell silent in an instant.

Every man stopped what he was doing, sitting quietly around his own File Leader, all eyes converging on that young Emperor eating alone.

A strange atmosphere filled the air.

Everyone felt something odd in their hearts, yet none could put into words exactly what was strange.

That was His Majesty the Emperor — did he actually have to eat his meal himself?

Ah, no...

Did he actually eat the same meal as them?

Shouldn't he be dining on delicacies of every kind, taking only a single bite of each dish?

Zhu Youjian forced down the last mouthful of rice with effort.

He rose to his feet and walked into the midst of the officers and men.

Every gaze followed his movement.

He had originally intended to deliver a rousing, impassioned speech, as he had done in court these past few days, to boost morale.

But as the words reached his lips, he felt that there seemed to be no need for that anymore.

Trust could not be built with a single speech.

Discipline could not be established with a single reward or punishment.

He stood still before the crowd, his gaze sweeping over face after face — young and full of expectation.

Then, in a clear and resonant voice, he issued the final decree of the day.

"Proclaim Our will!"

"All warriors present here shall form a new camp, bestowed with the name 'Brave Guard'!"

"Every man who enters this camp shall receive two dan of grain per month!"

The moment these words were spoken, silence filled the field for an instant.

Then, like a volcano erupting, a heaven-shaking, earth-shattering cheer burst forth!

"Long live Our Emperor! Long live! Long live for ten thousand years!"

Everyone, including Sun Yingyuan, knelt in wild excitement, shouting these three words with all the strength in their bodies.

On their faces shone the most sincere joy and the most fervent adoration.

In this moment, Zhu Youjian knew — the first army that truly belonged to him had at last been born.