Born in coarse cloth, he ascended the supreme throne. From the Huai region he raised troops and seized the realm.
He had begged for food, chanted sutras, led soldiers, and borne the title of king.
He had commanded generals as emperor and driven into Dadu, cutting off the Mandate of the Hu Yuan.
For Zhu Yuanzhang, this life had been a succession of rises and falls. Yet the farther he walked and the higher he stood, the fewer people remained at his side. The only one who truly understood him was his own younger sister.
Xu Da he regarded as a brother, yet Xu Da observed the rites of subject and minister at every turn.
His son could at times contend with him, but his mind was subtle and perceptive, and on some matters even he did not dare to advise lightly.
Since the appearance of the light screen, however, this condition seemed to have eased somewhat. The former sovereigns and forebears who wrote upon the screen had no need to flatter him and no cause to fear his status, for they were either not ministers of Ming or were themselves Sons of Heaven.
Such equal and unforced counsel calmed Zhu Yuanzhang considerably.
The Emperor Zhaolie had spoken truly. Even if the barbarians had once gained power, in the end someone else had done what he himself had done, and judging from the young narrator's tone, that man had done it far better than he.
Feeling his sister's gaze, Zhu Yuanzhang turned and gave her a reassuring look, then faced forward with renewed spirit.
"Every dynasty has taken the former one as mirror. That our Great Ming may use the history of the old Ming as a mirror, how fortunate we are."
Zhu Biao understood his father's meaning, yet seeing the leisure implied in the words of Tang Taizong upon the screen, he suddenly wondered whether Tang Taizong had known of the Crown Prince's rebellion.
After the fall of Southern Song, Yuan formally completed unification.
As a short lived dynasty ruling vast territory, the Yuan received in the History of Yuan a fairly settled judgment: it practiced Han law while preserving national customs, in plain terms meaning a low degree of sinicization.
Yuan possessed immense lands, yet for a considerable time it did not emphasize agriculture, did not hold the civil examinations, and relied excessively upon Buddhism. These were visible problems.
But to call its level of sinicization too low is an assessment made from the vantage of later ages. At the time, few would have regarded this as an issue.
The Mongols of that era were in the truest sense the Scourge of God. In the West they launched three western campaigns, and the scars they left have not fully faded.
In the East they first destroyed Western Xia, then Jin, and finally subdued Song step by step to achieve unification.
Southern Song, as the defeated and conquered party, would hardly persuade anyone by claiming institutional and cultural superiority and urging the victorious Mongols to study it.
It would be like Jieli Khan being captured by Li Jing, bound and sent to Chang'an, then declaring before Tang Taizong during the presentation of captives that though he was defeated, Eternal Heaven had not been defeated, and that if Tang wished to strengthen the state it must learn the Turkic system.
That Li Shimin did not execute Jieli on the spot would already count as magnanimity, much less truly learning from him.
Of course later Li Chengqian learned quite well, though that belongs to another matter.
In sum, though the Mongol Empire had fractured and declined, to Mongols their steppe system still held superiority. To speak of learning Han institutions was sheer fantasy.
Even Kublai Khan, regarded by certain khanates as a traitor to the Mongols, bluntly asked what use there was in Han men doing nothing but tax and compose poetry.
Nor was it only Kublai. The Southern Song patriot Xie Fangde once angrily declared that those who misled the realm with learning were all scholars of the examination essays.
Xie Fangde had taken the jinshi degree in the same year as Wen Tianxiang. Later he stubbornly resisted the Yuan siege at Xinzhou. After Xinzhou fell, he changed his name and lived in seclusion. Under Yuan he was recommended for office but refused. A Fujian official seeking favor forcibly sent him to Dadu, where he chose to starve himself to death.
If even such a hard boned Song loyalist condemned the examination system as ruinous, how could the Mongols be convinced that the Central Plains literary order possessed superiority?
It is little wonder that opposition to sinicization among the Mongols was so firm. It was not disbelief, but that you yourselves were too unworthy.
In the Xu Chang prefectural office, Zhang Fei nudged Cao Cao with lively interest.
"Old Cao, do you know who this Wei Wendi was?"
For Cao Cao, recalling the title of King of Wei he once intended to assume, and remembering that he had dismissed Liu Bei and Zhang Fei's words as absurdities, the answer was not difficult to guess.
Or rather, from the beginning Liu Bei had laid the truth before him, and he had refused to believe it.
The title Wei Wendi, bestowing upon his father the martial posthumous name while himself enjoying the civil, indeed seemed the sort of thing Cao Pi might do in uncertain advance and retreat.
Shaking his head, Cao Cao was more curious about another matter.
"Zihuan, Cao Pi, why would he speak thus?"
Zhang Fei thought for a moment.
"It seems he did not wish to build a mausoleum for himself, saying that in this world there is no tomb that is not robbed."
Cao Cao nodded honestly. If what Zhang Fei said was true, then even the tomb he had labored to build had been plundered. Just now it had even been mentioned that the founding ruler of Song left no complete remains. Yet at present he was concerned with another matter.
"My son died young and did not wish to construct a mausoleum. Was he at least laid to rest in peace?"
Zhang Fei restrained his smile and tried to recall.
"I imagine so. After the light screen ends there is a replay function. You may view it yourself later."
The desolation on Cao Cao's face lessened. He cupped his hands seriously.
"Then I thank you, General. And where were you buried after your hundred years?"
Cao Cao saw Zhang Fei's expression turn strange. In the end he shook his head.
"A great man is wrapped in horsehide upon death. Why seek a place of comfort?"
"And Yunchang?"
"…Old Cao, I advise you not to ask."
In the Song camp, Li Yu was the first to voice complaint.
"What fault lies in examination essays? What fault in composing poetry? What fault in cultivating learning and letters?"
The rebuttal was simpler. Throughout Song the debate between civil and military had persisted, and thus Zhao Kuangyin and Zhao Pu both understood clearly.
"Before the time of peace, do not compose verses of peace," Zhao Kuangyin sighed.
Zhao Pu cupped his hands.
"Sir Li, do not be agitated. What these men lament are the consequences of Song's long reliance on civil control over the military."
"As a gentleman, in chaotic times one should raise the sword to serve the state and open peace. After peace is established, then one may cultivate learning and continue the broken tradition."
"Otherwise it is this: the enemy holds a wolf toothed mace, while I offer my bare skull. Is it not tragic?"
Li Yu's expression grew odd. The description seemed to fit the situation of Southern Tang all too well.
He was no fool. He knew the private accusations against him in Jiangnan, yet he also felt his helplessness.
Perhaps when he first knew that Song would not allow Southern Tang to endure, he should indeed have done something. Later, whatever he did would have been too late.
Still, he asked cautiously.
"Our Tang fell for neglecting martial governance. Did Song truly repeat the same error?"
He saw the sovereign and chancellor both glance sideways, and Master Kongjiong quietly step back a pace.