Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

The drumbeats faded in the cool morning air. Li Yu took three steps, his palms sweating, but his smile became even more serene.

Zhu Han stood aside and watched, his gaze sliding from the instep of the man's feet to his eyes, and then to the strength on his shoulder.

He didn't speak, he just nodded.

"Next," Wang Fu called out. His voice was loud, but not intimidating. The first person to arrive was a woman holding a child, who hesitated by the door. Wang Fu moved the small wooden stool forward a bit: "You sit down first. I'll check your feet."

The woman smiled awkwardly, her lips pursed: "I just came to watch the fun."

“You have to sit down even if you want to see him.” Wang Fu said honestly, “Your child is asleep, and you’re afraid it will be tiring for you to carry him. Let me massage your back.”

The woman then laughed and sat down.

Wang Fu gently patted her back, then stopped after two taps: "Your shoulders are stiff. Do you always walk with your shoulders hunched over like that?"

The woman nodded: "I always keep things safe when I go to the market because I'm afraid of losing them."

"Relax, I'll show you." Wang Fu pressed down on her shoulder: "See—isn't this lighter?"

The woman exclaimed, "Yes!"

“Try walking three steps later,” Wang Fu said. “If you don’t walk, I’ll walk for your child.”

The woman was amused by him and wiped away her tears: "Okay."

Just as they were laughing, a commotion suddenly broke out at the alley entrance.

Several strong young men escorted a man into the room. The man had a silk sash around his waist, wore soft boots, and walked with a light, airy gait.

The able-bodied men walked along shouting, "Make way, make way, Manager Liu is here."

Manager Liu seemed used to being given preferential treatment; he held his chin high and kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.

He walked to the rope and smiled, "Your Highness is teaching people how to walk, right? I'll walk too."

"Go," Zhu Han said, looking at him. "Take thirty steps."

"I'll walk three hundred." Manager Liu snorted and was about to take a step when Wang Fu suddenly stopped him: "No."

Manager Liu raised an eyebrow: "Who gave you the right to say that?"

Zhu Han waved his hand: "He has a point. You go first, thirty steps. Your boots are soft, and your heart is even softer. If you walk too much, you'll fall apart."

Manager Liu sneered: "I do business all over the country. Do you think I'll go bankrupt if I travel too much? What a joke."

After saying that, he stepped onto the rope. The first three steps were steady, but on the fourth step, the sole of his boot slipped on the stones, and he swayed. He quickly used his knee to catch himself, but ended up raising his shoulders very high.

By the tenth step, he was already sweating. At the fifteenth step, he suddenly stopped, squinted, and said, "The drum is too slow."

Lu Yicong looked up at him, the drumbeats still not starting: "Not slow."

Manager Liu snorted and forced himself to walk twenty steps, when suddenly his foot twitched.

The crowd gasped, and he nearly fell over. Gu Chenfei rushed over and caught his elbow.

"You put cotton padding in your shoes," Gu Chen said. "Your feet don't fit snugly against the soles of your boots, so they get messy after walking for a while."

Manager Liu gasped, "I'm afraid of the cold, I've been wearing this for a year."

“Pull it out today,” Gu Chen said. “Look at Wang Fu, his feet sweat a lot, but his shoes are clean inside. He can only stay stable when his soles are flat on the ground.”

Manager Liu was stunned for a moment, then actually took off his boots, pulled out the wad of cotton that had been crushed and deformed, and casually tossed it behind him.

Wang Fu picked it up and handed it to the straw sandal seller: "Teach him how to tie it, tell him where to tie it."

The straw sandal seller took the sandals, his eyes darting around: "Your instep is high, the uppers shouldn't be so tight. I'll get you a new pair after a couple of days."

He grabbed the rope and quickly tied the boot laces in a new way.

Manager Liu put it on again and walked through it a second time, and this time he was much more steady.

After he finished walking, the arrogance on his face lessened, and he cupped his hands in respect to Zhu Han, saying, "I admire you."

"Good that you're convinced." Zhu Han laughed. "Don't shout at your guys yet. Let them take three steps too."

"Take thirty steps!" Manager Liu shouted, turning around. "Anyone who can't walk steadily won't be going back today."

The guys came forward with a "Hey!" sound, and the crowd laughed again.

Zhu Han ignored them and turned to see that Zhu Yuanzhang had indeed come again.

Today he wasn't wearing a hat, but a plain short-sleeved shirt, looking like a man who could disappear into a crowd at any moment. He walked up to Lu Yicong and said, "Let me knock a couple of times."

Lu Yicong hurriedly handed over the drumsticks. Zhu Yuanzhang held the drumsticks and tried to gently tap the edge of the drum.

As soon as the drumbeat sounded, the crowd trembled slightly, as if an innate instinct for obedience was about to surge forth. Zhu Han immediately coughed and said, "Brother, be gentle."

Zhu Yuanzhang clicked his tongue and withdrew his hand. His second strike landed on the center of the drum, the sound like a drop of water falling on warm jade. On the third strike, he paused and asked in a low voice, "Will this frighten people?"

“They are no longer afraid today,” Zhu Han said. “What they fear is not being able to see the road. If you give them a light, they will dare to walk.”

Zhu Yuanzhang laughed: "The lamp is here with you." As he spoke, he suddenly raised his hand and handed the drumstick to Li Yu, "You give it a try."

Li Yu shuddered, almost dropping the drumsticks. Zhu Yuanzhang patted the back of his hand: "Wait. Play it for yourself."

Li Yu took a deep breath, and the first strike landed on the edge of the drum, the second on the center, and the third on the center again.

His hands began to steady. He looked up and saw Zhu Biao nodding at him, and a surge of inexplicable courage welled up inside him.

"Your Highness," Han Ding approached and said with a smile, "The Imperial Academy is in an uproar. The students are all saying that they learned more in the old academy today than they did in half a month in the lecture hall. I've come to ask: could we send a student here every ten days?"

Zhu Han glanced at him and laughed, "Once every ten days is too few."

"So once every five days?"

“Come every day,” Zhu Han said. “You take turns. I’m not going to lecture you, but to help you look at your feet and help take apart your shoes. You should put all that ‘moderation and peace’ you’ve been reading into practice on your feet first.”

Han Ding was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter: "Your Highness's reasoning is very insightful. I'll go back and set the date."

"Don't fill the schedule," Zhu Han said. "Give them some free days, let them go out and see what's happening in the streets. Let them see the people carrying loads, the sedan chair bearers, the knife sharpeners, and the cart pushers. When they're done, come back and tell me how to get there."

Han Ding became more and more excited as he listened, nodding repeatedly.

As the sun rose higher, the shadows at the alley entrance climbed up the wall.

More and more people arrived, and a rope was strung up next to the clothesline by the well. Bai Zan divided the pebbles into three sections and brought a long bench from under the kitchen so that people could sit down if they got tired.

The straw sandal seller was too busy to handle everything, so Gu Chen helped him tie the sandals, leaving white marks on his fingers from the straw rope.

Lu Yicong's drumbeats became more and more steady. He would occasionally pause, let the children tap a few times with their fingertips, and then take over, like connecting a long thread to keep it from breaking.

“Uncle.” Zhu Biao emerged from the crowd, his hair damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead, but his eyes shone brightly. “I have chosen ten people.”

"explain."

"Wang Fu, Gu Chen, Chen Tong, Li Yu, Bai Zan... and five others: a straw sandal seller, a tea seller, a millstone grinder, and an old soldier guarding the alley entrance—"

He paused, realizing he'd let something slip, "He was an old man who kept watch in the city. The last one was Shi Buwai."

"Okay." Zhu Han smiled. "No need for the veterans, how about Old Night Patrol?"

Zhu Biao stuck out his tongue and lowered his voice: "Yes."

“Take three each. If you don’t leave tomorrow, you’ll see.”

Zhu Han said, "Watching how they lead people is even harder than if you went by yourself."

“I know.” Zhu Biao straightened his back. “I’ll start looking at it today.” “Start with the millstone on your right.”

Zhu Han glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, "He has an old shoulder injury, so he can't be carried around for long."

Zhu Biao agreed and turned to leave.

In the crowd, he was like a nimble swallow, slipping through the gaps between shoulders and gently landing next to those who needed him, asking "How are you?", patting their backs, or simply smiling.

After noon, a wind blew from the city, carrying heat and smoke from a distant stove.

The tea vendor switched from hot tea to warm water, and he walked back and forth by the rope with a bucket in his hand: "Drink a little, not too much, just to soothe your throat."

Wang Fu moved the stools to the other end for those who had walked thirty steps to sit on.

Gu Chen hung up the straw sandals one by one according to the shape of the feet, and attached a small paper tag to the back of each pair of shoes, writing "First lap of the day" or "Second lap of the day", as if recording the appearance of each pair of shoes.

"Your Highness," Shi Buwai kicked the basket, "I'm tired."

"Sit down for a while," Zhu Han said.

"I won't sit." Shi Buwai pouted. "If I sit, I won't be able to move. When I was young, I used to transport bricks in the city, and I would fall asleep as soon as I sat down. Give me something to do."

“Okay.” Zhu Han laughed. “Go find those impatient guys and keep an eye on them. If anyone starts to lose their footing, make them start over. You can yell at them, and no one will dare disobey.”

Shi Buwai was taken aback for a moment, then burst into laughter: "He knows how to order people around."

He carried the basket away, spitting on the ground as he went, as if marking the ground.

But every time he yelled "What's your hurry?" and then bent down to straighten the rope, people didn't get angry. Instead, they smiled and bowed to him.

Zhu Yuanzhang watched from the corner for a long time.

He suddenly put his hands behind his back and strode over to Zhu Han: "Your method doesn't seem like you're just playing around."

“No,” Zhu Han said. “I’ve never thought about the word ‘play’.”

"Then what do you want to do?" Zhu Yuanzhang stared at him.

“Let people walk steadily.” Zhu Han looked at the alley entrance. “When their feet are steady, their hearts are at peace; when their hearts are at peace, their homes are at peace; when their homes are at peace, the city is at peace. Your Majesty, you understand this better than I do.”

Zhu Yuanzhang remained silent for a long while before finally uttering a soft "hmm".

He suddenly laughed: "I was planning to pick on you today. But instead of picking on you, you've picked on my heart."

"It's good to choose," Zhu Han said. "Only by choosing can the air be breathable."

The two stood side by side for a while.

The drumbeats continued, one after another, and the crowd surged like the sea.

Zhu Yuanzhang suddenly said, "Tomorrow, go to that long street in the west of the city. I remember the stone slabs there are uneven."

"I know," Zhu Han nodded. "I'll go tomorrow."

"Don't go today," Zhu Yuanzhang said. "You stay here and keep an eye on these people. Those who leave most easily are the ones who might slip up at the last step."

“I’m keeping an eye on it,” Zhu Han smiled. “I’m most afraid of the last step.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a child cried out and fell over outside the rope.

The child's knee was scraped, and he immediately burst into tears. His cries were like a small knife, piercing everyone's heart.

Wang Fu was the first to rush over, picked up the child, and coaxed him in a rough voice, "It doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt, you're a man, why are you crying?"

The child cried even harder. Gu Chen rushed over, lifted the child's leg to look, and saw that the knee was scraped and blood was seeping out little by little.

He took a clean cloth from his body and gently pressed it against the wound: "If it hurts, shout it out, and then we'll leave."

The child hiccuped and said, "I...I'll...I'll walk again."

"Let's go." Lu Yicong tapped the drum lightly. "I'll give you a slow beat."

The child held back tears, squinted, and stepped down.

The first step felt like walking on clouds, the second like walking on cotton, and on the third, he suddenly stopped crying, his mouth puffed out as if he was hiding a smile.

"Well done," Zhu Han said.

As dusk fell, the distant calls of livestock echoed through the city.

The sunset glow on the horizon resembled scraps of paper scattered by the wind, landing on the wall at the alley entrance.

The crowd had mostly dispersed. Wang Fu carried the drum, Gu Chen held the shoes, and Lu Yicong tucked the drumsticks into his arms like he was carrying a warm pomelo.

Shi Buwai returned carrying an empty basket, the bottom of which made two clean "thump-thump" sounds. He shook the basket and said, "That's it."

"That's it," Zhu Han said. "Tomorrow morning, we'll first 'stand' under the corridor. Stand there for an hour, then we'll move on."

Wang Fu's eyes widened: "Stand for an hour?"

"Only those who can stand firm can walk steadily." Zhu Han looked at him. "The timid will stand for half an hour. The child will stand for a quarter of an hour. Li Yuxian will stand for a quarter of an hour."

“I can stand for half an hour,” Li Yu said softly, but his eyes gleamed.

"Don't be stubborn." Shi Bu glared at him. "If you're stubborn, you'll be crying on the ground tomorrow."

Li Yu chuckled and nodded, "Whatever you say."

Zhu Han moved the wooden plaque with the inscription "Listening to the Wind" up another half inch. As he withdrew his hand, his fingertips traced an arc in the air.

He turned to look at Zhu Biao: "Don't wait for me tomorrow, arrange the people yourself. Remember one thing—when leading people, lead their hearts, not their feet. If the heart comes first, the feet will follow."

“I’ve got it.” Zhu Biao said solemnly.

The wind rises again at night, stirring the oil lamps, the ropes, and the little light in everyone's heart.

Under the old academy's corridors, one lamp burned a little longer than another, as if they were conveying something unspoken to each other.

At dawn the next day, Zhu Han was awakened by a series of soft tapping sounds.

He put on his coat, got up, pushed open the door, and went out. He saw Lu Yicong sitting on the porch, one finger touching the edge of the drum—lightly, lightly, lightly.

He listened intently, then suddenly laughed: "Who are you talking to?"

"With...with myself." Lu Yicong looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "I'm afraid I'll mess things up later."

“You won’t,” Zhu Han sat down next to him. “You have patience.”

"I'm afraid everyone will be waiting for me."

"Everyone's not waiting for you," Zhu Han shook his head. "Everyone's waiting for themselves."

Lu Yicong was stunned for a moment, then smiled and said, "Your Highness, I understand."

Before it was fully light, the alleyway was already crowded with people.

Shi Buwai threw the basket on the ground, clutched his back, and cursed, "You bunch of foot people, if you don't stand still today, don't come back tomorrow!" After cursing, he laughed and went to massage an old woman's legs: "Does it hurt?"

"Ouch," the old woman grimaced. "You're too rough."

"Heavy is better," Shi Buwai said. "If it's too light, you won't be able to feel my treat."

His wife scolded him, and he happily increased the pressure even more.

Zhu Han stood at the end of the rope, looking back at each face. Some faces were rough, some fair, some young, some etched with wrinkles, but on every face was written one word—Go. (End of Chapter)