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

He raised his hand and took two steps back: "You guys go first."

"You go first too," Zhu Han said with a smile to the sedan chair carriers. "You made a mistake by blocking the alley. Let me pass."

The sedan bearers exchanged glances, nodded, and lifted the sedan chair, moving it half a step to the side.

The person carrying the load passed by from the other side, no longer hunching their shoulders high, and their feet no longer fidgeting.

Seeing that both sides were yielding, the people around seemed to slow their breathing and disperse.

The wind began to circulate in the alley.

"That's settled then," Shi Buwai muttered. "You guys should keep an eye on the road all the time, don't treat it like your own backyard."

"Shut up!" Bai Yu kicked him.

"I don't talk much, but I have a lot on my mind," Shi Buwai snorted.

As the event ended, the man carrying the load suddenly turned around and bowed to Zhu Han, saying, "Your Highness, I will come tomorrow."

"Come on," Zhu Han said with a smile.

On the way back to the old academy, the night was gentle. Zhu Yuanzhang suddenly asked, "Little brother, do you have a next step in mind?"

“Yes.” Zhu Han looked at the shoes on the door. “Let more people take others with them. Today one person takes three, tomorrow one takes five, the day after tomorrow one takes seven. It’s not about asking them to take more, but about asking them to be mindful of others. Once they are mindful of others, their own feet won’t just be looking after themselves.”

"You're placing people's hearts out there; aren't you afraid they'll be blown away by the wind?" Zhu Yuanzhang asked.

"I'm not afraid," Zhu Han said. "The wind blows away ashes, not fire."

Zhu Yuanzhang remained silent for a moment, then suddenly laughed: "What you said is good."

“Brother.” Zhu Han paused and looked at him seriously, “Don’t just act like a bystander. Today you are walking in front, and many people are not actually looking at your feet, but at your face. If you are there, they will feel a little more at ease.”

"I'm here." Zhu Yuanzhang nodded. "I won't shout or put on airs. I'll walk in front and leave the drums to them."

“Okay,” Zhu Han said.

That evening, Zhu Han stood under the "Listening to the Wind" wooden sign for a long time.

Li Yu walked over and gently placed the drum at his feet. There were new fine marks on the drum surface, made by countless fingers.

"Your Highness," Li Yu said softly, "I want to try something."

"explain."

“I want to… not play the drum.” Li Yu looked up. “I want to use my fingers to tap a smaller beat, one that only I can hear, and no one else can hear. But I want to try it and see if others can keep up.”

"You try." Zhu Han took a step back, making room for him.

Li Yu placed his fingers on the edge of the drum, then withdrew them and pressed his hand to his chest—he didn't play the drum.

He took three steps, looking straight ahead, and placed his foot right in the middle of the crevice. Wang Fu, standing beside him, imitated him, also taking three steps without knocking.

Neither Gu Chen nor Chen Tong knocked.

The drum didn't sound, but the alleyway suddenly became even quieter, so quiet that you could hear everyone breathing.

As the third step landed, everyone instinctively pulled forward, as if an invisible line was taut and then relaxed between them.

"It's done." Zhu Biao gasped, his smile as warm as a spring breeze. "It's done!"

"It's done." Zhu Yuanzhang smiled, his smile spreading from the corners of his eyes all the way to his heart.

As the evening heat dissipated, a small lamp still burned in the corridor of the old academy.

The oil wick was thin, and the flame was not high, but it illuminated the "Listening to the Wind" sign above the door with a light gold glow.

Everyone had left, leaving only the fine lines left by shoes in the courtyard.

Zhu Han stood quietly for a while, his hands behind his back, listening to the wind whistling through the roof tiles, like someone breathing in the darkness.

"Your Highness." Bai Zan, carrying a bundle of short wooden poles, quietly emerged from the shadows and lowered her voice, "I polished the edges of the small 'stop' sign so it would be easier to handle."

"Okay." Zhu Han said without turning his head. "For tomorrow."

Bai Zan hummed in agreement, took two steps, then stopped and couldn't help but ask, "Your Highness, you always say 'let more people lead others,' I'm wondering—couldn't we also let people lead themselves?"

"How to bring it?"

“Take a red rope and stretch it from your front door to the alley entrance. Just touch it every day before you go out, and it will feel like someone is leading you.” Bai Zan held up the red rope, her eyes shining. “No writing, just using your hands.”

"That's quite an interesting move of yours." Zhu Han finally turned around and patted him on the shoulder. "Try making one tomorrow and see if anyone tries to learn from you."

Bai Zan chuckled and went off carrying the wooden pole. The courtyard became even quieter.

Zhu Han put away the lamp and was about to return to his room when there was a sudden sound from under the eaves; someone gently knocked twice on the door frame.

"Who?" Zhu Han asked.

"It's me," said Shi Buwai, his voice hoarse, "I can't sleep."

"Drank too much?"

"No." Shi Buwai placed his hand on the door frame. "I'm just a little itchy inside."

What's itchy?

"At my age, after a lifetime of cursing people, I only realized today that touching is worse than cursing."

He spread his palms out. “Look, my hands are calloused. Touching a wooden stake can calm a person’s heart a little. But I don’t know where to put that strength.”

"Try lighter things," Zhu Han said. "You used to put all your strength into heavy things."

Shi Buwai chuckled, "I'll listen to you."

As dawn broke, vendors arrived in front of the old academy.

The straw sandal seller dried the soles on the old felt, a thin layer of white steam rising from them; the tea seller carried a bucket of warm water and placed it at the door; the knife sharpener sat down early and polished the whetstone until it shone.

None of the three called out; they simply watched the first ray of light fall beneath the lintel, as if waiting for a familiar guest.

"Borrow shoes." Several pairs of children's shoes and two pairs of finely sewn women's shoes were added to the small wooden box, with a small, wind-shaped flower embroidered on the toe.

Bai Zan came out from under the corridor carrying a red rope. She excitedly tied one end to the doorpost and the other end to the locust tree at the alley entrance, made a slipknot, and was about to back off when Shi Buwai slapped her down: "You tied it too high, the child can't reach it."

"Oh." Bai Zan quickly moved the end of the rope down. "Like this?"

“One inch lower.” Shi Buwai squinted. “If a person can touch it, their heart will remember it.”

Before long, Li Yu arrived carrying a drum, while Gu Chen carried several small wooden boards with only a thin line drawn on them.

Wang Fu, panting, carried a small stool: "I'll stand next to the red rope first, and if anyone can't reach it, I'll hand them the stool."

"Alright." Zhu Han came out of the courtyard, his clothes half-tied, and said in a gentle voice, "Don't rush to leave today. Touch first, then stand, then walk. Anyone who has something on their mind should touch the red rope at the door first."

Not long after he finished speaking, the sounds of dawn filled the city.

The first group of people surged in along the alley entrance; some carried loads on shoulder poles, some sold flatbread, and some were women going to the well to fetch water early in the morning.

A line naturally formed in front of the red rope. The children craned their necks, eager to touch it; the smaller ones couldn't reach it, so they stood on tiptoe; if they still couldn't reach it, Wang Fu would hand them a stool. As soon as each child's fingertip touched the red rope, their eyes seemed to steady themselves.

"Your Highness," a low, husky voice came from the back of the line, "Will touching it calm you down?"

Zhu Han looked in the direction of the sound and saw the old night patrolman in the city. His thin, bony face looked as if it had been carved by a knife in the morning light, and there were red lines at the corners of his eyes from years of not sleeping all night.

He was holding a small stick used for striking wooden clappers, and the veins on the back of his hand were bulging.

"Touching it helps you stay calm." Zhu Han walked over. "You're used to walking at night, so your steps are steady and your mind is at peace. During the day, with so many people around, it's easy to get flustered. Touching it helps bring that calm mind from the night into the daytime."

The old night watchman paused for a moment, then placed his hand on the red rope. His rough fingertips made the rope fibers creak slightly from being rubbed together.

He withdrew his hand, his eyes seeming to pull light from the depths of his heart that had been hidden for years: "I understand."

“You’ll teach everyone how to walk at night,” Zhu Han suddenly said.

"Night patrols?" The old night patrolman blinked, as if weighing his options.

"When we walk at night, the first step is to listen to the wind direction, the second step is to look at our shadows, and the third step is to look at our ears. The shadows will move in the direction the wind blows, and we will move an inch to the other side; if we hear a dog barking, we should slow our pace in advance to avoid startling people."

“Okay.” Zhu Han nodded. “You stand at the other end of the red rope. Whoever walks at night, let him learn these three steps from you first. Just say these three sentences, nothing more.”

Old Night Patrol responded, his voice not loud, but it carried a force that naturally drew people in.

He immediately called aside a few people in the team who did night shifts and had them learn from him.

Inside the door, Gu Chen's small wooden board quickly came in handy.

A twelve or thirteen-year-old boy named Zhu Biao stood in front of the board, his eyes filled with hesitation, his toes trembling on the thin thread.

"Step over it," Gu Chen whispered in his ear. "Don't look at the line, look at your feet."

Zhu Biao gritted his teeth and stepped over it.

He couldn't help but look back at the line, and finally burst out laughing: "I always thought this line was very high."

“You’ve lowered it.” Gu Chen laughed. “Come back tomorrow and lower it a little more.”

“My name is Xie Tong.” Zhu Biao suddenly looked up. “Mr. Gu, may I draw my own line on the board?”

"Yes." Gu Chen handed him the charcoal. "Draw your feet today."

Xie Tong drew three dots on the board: the first dot was heavy, the second dot was light, and the third dot was stable.

He looked at it himself and laughed, "These three dots look like three beans."

“One day you will connect them all, and make them into a road,” Gu Chen said.

"When?" Xie Tong asked.

"When you bring others over too."

Gu Chen handed him the wooden board. "Take it. Bring someone with you tomorrow and have him cross your line."

"Okay." Xie Tong gripped the small wooden board tightly, as if holding a thin lifeline.

Suddenly, a burst of laughter came from the alley entrance. It turned out that the sugar painting vendor had arrived, the sugar syrup on his shoulder still warm.

He squeezed under the red rope, looked up and smiled: "Your Highness, let me draw a knot on the red rope. Whoever touches the knot can wish for 'peace of mind'."

"Don't make wishes." Zhu Han shook his head. "Making wishes will hold you back. Draw a circle, and whoever touches the circle should draw a circle in their mind first, keeping their random thoughts inside."

"Oh—this is wonderful."

The sugar painting vendor smiled and actually took a little sugar syrup from the red string, tracing a circle the size of a fingernail along the fibers.

The children exclaimed in surprise, "I touched the circle!" "Me too!"

Laughter filled the air, and even the adults couldn't resist reaching out to touch it, as if they had truly contained a small bundle of the surging thoughts in their hearts.

"Your Highness," the straw sandal seller said, tucking his needle and thread behind his ear, "many people are borrowing shoes today, so I'd like to move the box outside."

“Move it,” Zhu Han said. “But put a board in front of the box and write a line on it so that people can step over it first.”

The straw sandal seller, upon receiving the order, would take two steps at a time to carry his box to the door, placing a board at the bottom. Anyone borrowing shoes could easily understand by looking down and asking no further questions.

A little over halfway through the morning, a group of neatly dressed men with red badges suddenly appeared in front of the red rope. They stood up straight, walked in unison, but their eyes seemed a little unfocused.

As soon as they appeared at the door, they were greeted with a few low exclamations—they were disciples from a martial arts school in the city.

The leader had handsome features with slightly raised eyebrows. He wore a plain sash around his waist with a tassel hanging from the end, swaying gently as he walked.

"Your Highness," he bowed, "we've heard that this place teaches people how to walk, so we'd like to give it a try."

"Try it." Zhu Han nodded. "Feel the rope first."

Zhu Biao paused for a moment, a hint of disdain creeping into his smile, but he still reached out and touched it.

After touching him, he stood in front of Gu Chen's board, his toes raised, like a drawn bow: "I can go very far."

“Crossing a distance isn’t difficult,” Gu Chen said. “Crossing steadily is the hard part. You should cross this line first.”

Zhu Biao raised his chin slightly: "That's too easy."

"You step over." Gu Chen said calmly.

Zhu Biao stepped across, and sure enough, he was steady.

He smirked and was about to take his second step when Gu Chen suddenly said, "Stop."

Zhu Biao, puzzled, pulled his foot back half an inch: "Why?"

"Your heel didn't land fully."

Gu Chen bent down and pointed, "You think you're steady because you're used to using your back to save yourself. Today, we won't let your back save you; we'll just let your feet stabilize themselves."

Zhu Biao's eyes flashed, revealing a hint of surprise—he hadn't expected the other party to see his habit so quickly.

He stopped arguing, and on his second leap, he indeed filled the space completely, a hint of seriousness appearing on his face.

"What's your name?" Zhu Han asked.

“Shen Li,” Zhu Biao replied, “the 'Li' in 'Lishi' (砺石, whetstone).

"Good handwriting." Zhu Han looked at him. "You have practiced your body for many years and your body is disciplined. If you let go of the discipline even a little, you will only make half a step forward on the path."

Shen Lishen glanced at him, clasped his hands in a fist and said, "I have learned a lot."

The martial arts students, adorned with red ribbons, weaved back and forth between the red ropes and wooden planks, sometimes steady, sometimes fast, and sometimes stopping to practice their moves.

Shi Buwai, who was watching from the side, suddenly stood up and clapped his hands in front of the group of Zhu Biao: "Your backs are too stiff. If they are stiff, they will easily make the road crooked. Be softer, as soft as your mother's hand stroking your backs."

Zhu Biao and the others burst into laughter, unable to stop for a moment.

Shen Li's smile hadn't faded, but he still replied, "Yes." He practiced his waist once, and it was indeed much more flexible.

After Shen Li finished walking, he suddenly stopped and bowed to Zhu Han: "Your Highness, may I stay at the door for half a day? I will not leave, I will just watch and remember your 'grace'."

"Keep it." Zhu Han nodded. "After you finish reading, tell me what you saw."

Shen Li responded and stepped aside, remaining silent and expressionless, but his eyes, like small hooks, were fixed on the backs of each pair of feet.

He saw how the muscles on the shoulders of the women carrying loads trembled, how the soles of the feet moved silently as the sauce seller flipped the ladle, and how the children stopped and let others touch the red rope.

As he looked at it, the arrogance on his brows gradually faded, and a layer of tranquility appeared in his eyes.

Just as the "touching," "standing," and "walking" in front of the door were gradually becoming orderly, the sound of an erhu suddenly came from the other end of the long street.

It wasn't a melody, but a slow series of notes, like someone testing a bowstring.

The sound was unhurried, as soft as mutton fat, yet not weak. Everyone instinctively tilted their ears. The erhu's sound had a rhythm, pausing every three beats, as if conversing with the gentle tinkling of a red rope.

"Who's pulling?" Bai Yu poked her head out.

"Old Shen from the north of the city," the straw sandal seller whispered, "his eyesight isn't very good, but his hearing is the best in the city."

Sure enough, an old man wearing an old cloth hat slowly approached, leaning on a bamboo cane, with an erhu tucked under his arm. (End of Chapter)