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[When it came to governing the Yellow River, however, Toqto'a, though steeped in the Confucian classics of the Han tradition, failed to grasp how fundamentally different the Yuan was from the Han, Tang, and Song.
As mentioned before, because of the Yuan system of official recruitment, central authority had been severely diluted. If earlier dynasties could be described as "imperial authority does not reach the villages," then under the Yuan it had become "imperial authority does not reach beyond the province."
Take the period when Bayan dominated the court. In the Henan Branch Secretariat there was a minor clerk named Fan Mengduan who stirred up considerable trouble.
Like many scholars of old, he suffered from a familiar ailment: ambition towering above the heavens, fate thinner than paper. Though only a petty functionary, he lamented daily that his talent went unrecognized. One day, drunk and frustrated, he wrote a poem at the provincial office in Henan:
Within my sleeve are hands fit to slay dragons and flood-serpents;
A keen blade buried in neglect these twenty years.
In any functioning dynasty, such words would have triggered a thorough investigation. In a stricter age, he might have been executed outright. Yet in the Yuan, nothing happened. Officials passed by; no one pursued the matter.
It was perhaps this indifference that revealed to Fan Mengduan how fragile Yuan administration truly was. He soon gathered several accomplices. The five of them disguised themselves as imperial envoys and entered the provincial offices bearing a forged edict. Astonishingly, it worked.
In the name of imperial envoys, they summoned the Pacification Commissioner, Chancellor, General Administrator, Wanhu, and other senior officials of the Henan Branch Secretariat into a small chamber within the government compound. After announcing fabricated charges, they offered no chance for defense. Iron maces fell, and within moments the province's highest officials lay dead.
With the deed done, the man who had posed as envoy publicly appointed Fan Mengduan "Regional Commander-in-Chief of Henan." From that point on, this former clerk truly controlled provincial affairs.
He sealed land routes, shut down waterways, and cut off communication between Henan and the outside world. Incredibly, the province was isolated and effectively seized by a handful of men. Fan Mengduan even found time to return home in triumph, settling old scores and killing former superiors who had once slighted him.
His downfall came from overconfidence. Drunk once again, he was approached by a subordinate seeking introduction to the supposed envoy in hopes of gaining office. In his stupor, Fan Mengduan laughed it off: "What envoy? I am the envoy."
The ending needs little elaboration. But the incident alone makes one point clear: Yuan rule did not merely fail at the grassroots level; even its control over the middle tiers of administration was dangerously weak.
Under such conditions, Toqto'a's belief that he could mobilize hundreds of thousands of laborers to dredge the river without triggering unrest was gravely misplaced. Among those conscripted were many who already harbored rebellious intent.
The most famous of them was Han Shantong, a figure versed in the Three Teachings and destined to become a professional rebel.
In the fourth month of 1351, Emperor Shun approved Toqto'a's river-control plan. One hundred fifty thousand laborers were conscripted from Bianliang, Daming, and thirteen circuits, joined by twenty thousand garrison troops from Luzhou and elsewhere, for a total of 170,000 men.
Work began in the fourth month. By the seventh, dredging was complete. In the eighth, water was diverted into the old channel. In the ninth, boats were again able to pass, and the sealing of breaches commenced. By the eleventh month, embankments were finished. The river engineer Jia Lu's plan of "dredge and block together, dredge first, then block" was executed with precision. The entire project took 190 days and concluded successfully. On the surface, Toqto'a's effort to control the Yellow River had achieved its goal.
Yet scarcely a month after construction began, Han Shantong dug up a stone figure he had buried not long before.
Carved upon it were the words: "Say not that the stone man has but one eye. Once it appears, all under Heaven will rise in rebellion."
That stone figure marked the true beginning of the peasant uprisings that would bring the Yuan to its end.]
Inside the prefectural yamen of Xuchang, Liu Bei let out a quiet sigh.
"The Mongol Yuan did not understand the people's hearts. Its swift collapse was hardly surprising."
Cao Cao found the remark irritating. Whenever Liu Bei spoke of popular sentiment, it grated on him. He replied coolly:
"'The people's will'? Is that not the same old line — 'Great Chu shall rise, King Chen Sheng'? A thousand years have passed, and men still cloak their ambitions in omens and spirits. Nothing new under Heaven."
Liu Bei smiled faintly.
"The will of spirits is but the will of men. The will of men is the people's heart. If invoking spirits gathers the multitude, and the multitude believes, what difference is there?"
Cao Cao frowned, preparing a rebuttal, but Zhang Fei cut in bluntly.
"Since the Chancellor knows the Records of the Grand Historian so well, he must also remember what Chen Sheng said when he rose."
Among Chen Sheng's many words, the historian preserved one above all: Are kings and generals born to their rank?
Ordinarily, Cao Cao would have dismissed it with a laugh.
But now, seeing Liu Bei's earnest expression and hearing the uprisings at the end of the Yuan described as peasant wars, that ancient cry seemed less like rhetoric and more like prophecy fulfilled.
In the end, Cao Cao said nothing.
While they debated, Zhuge Liang quietly recorded the key points and spoke with a trace of regret.
"If Zichu were here to see this policy of exchanging new paper for old, he might gain some insight."
Pang Tong brightened. "You do not understand it?"
"It is not that I do not understand," Zhuge Liang replied. "Only that one's capacity is limited."
He looked over his notes and added annotations beneath them.
"The more one reflects on paper currency, the clearer it becomes how vast later generations' theories of economy and finance must be. Bullion standards, reserve backing, the exchange of one issue for another, dual systems of principal and subsidiary currency — each term alone demands careful thought. What I grasp is perhaps one or two parts in ten thousand."
Pang Tong fell silent. He resolved not to take such modest remarks at face value again.
Still, he asked, "Once we pacify the realm, have you considered a policy on paper currency?"
Zhuge Liang shook his head.
"Though we have entered Xuchang, the land has endured more than thirty years of chaos. The people's livelihood is fragile. When we were in Chengdu, Zichu and I discussed this. For now, reopening mines and minting coin would be enough to restore what has been exhausted. Paper currency has its uses, but at present, issuing notes backed by the rare goods of Chengdu in measured amounts will suffice. Anything beyond that would be unwise."
Seeing the expression on Zhuge Liang's face, Pang Tong wisely refrained from pressing further.
…
As the young man's commentary turned back to Toqto'a, Zhu Yuanzhang's expression grew reflective.
"For over a century the Hu rulers occupied the Central Plain, overturning rites and order. Northern tribes ruled China, and all within the seas submitted. Could that have been accomplished by human strength alone?"
"Toqto'a sought, through the Confucian methods of the Han tradition, to prolong their corrupted mandate. Yet the last ruler was indulgent, officials were greedy and cruel, and the people suffered. Heaven had already turned away from them. How could Han institutions save those who rejected civilization?"
Zhu Biao recalled that much of his father's rhetoric had appeared in proclamations issued before the founding of the Ming, when he sought to rally the people of the north and declare the Ming's irreconcilable opposition to the Yuan.
Now, with the Ming established for over a decade and later generations judging Toqto'a's efforts in hindsight, his father's tone had shifted.
"Father believes Toqto'a entrusted the matter to the wrong man?"
Zhu Yuanzhang gave his son a sidelong glance.
"I am saying the Yuan's internal strife was a blessing. It spared the people further slaughter."