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

The wood of the erhu is dark in color, and the surface of the erhu is smooth from being touched by hand.

He walked to the door, stopped, and smiled, tilting his head: "I heard the red rope ringing in the north alley and came here following the sound."

"The red string makes a sound?" Bai Yu was stunned. "The red string can make a sound?"

“Your hands are sweaty, and there are fibers on the rope. When the fibers are stroked one by one, they will hiss slightly.”

The old man smiled broadly, "You didn't notice, but I heard it."

"Would you be willing to... play a tune, sir?" Zhu Han asked.

“I won’t play the tune,” the old man shook his head. “I’ll play the step.”

He held the erhu to his chest, gently plucked the bow, producing two low notes, a slightly higher third note, and a soft fourth note.

The crowd naturally followed suit, the small steps smoothing out the pebbles on the road.

The old man drew his bow halfway, then stopped in mid-air. That pause coincided perfectly with the moment Li Yu had mentally anticipated.

The crowd seemed to hold their breath, then smiled and took the next step.

"Old Shen's 'stop' is better than mine," Bai Zan muttered.

“Your carving is for hands to touch, his is for ears to touch.” Shi Buwai snorted. “Each has its use.”

Amidst the sound of the erhu, a staggering figure squeezed in front of the red rope. It was an old woman in a blue skirt, her insteps swollen badly, panting with every step.

She didn't want to squeeze in, and after standing there for ages, she still couldn't get a turn.

The straw sandal seller saw this and shouted, "Make way, ma'am, touch first!"

The crowd immediately parted to make way for a narrow gap.

The old woman reached out, her fingertips touching the red string, and her eyes suddenly reddened: "When I was young, I loved to walk. The year I got married, I walked three blocks to fetch my bride. After that, my feet swelled up, and I dared not walk anymore. Today—"

"Let's just touch it today," Zhu Han laughed. "We'll walk it tomorrow. You take three steps today, five steps tomorrow, and seven steps the day after. No rush."

The old woman nodded, tears welling up in her eyes but not falling. She crossed the first line, the second line, and the third line on Gu Chen's board, her insteps trembling but her soles steady.

The erhu behind her gave a soft "hmm," as if responding to her heart.

"Your Highness," Shen Li suddenly called out to Zhu Biao, his voice no longer full of Zhu Biao's airs, but with a more solemn tone, "I've been looking around all morning and have noted down three things."

"Speak." Zhu Biao stood beside the red rope, his hands behind his back, like a little teacher.

"First, 'yielding' is not retreating; it's making room for others without changing your mindset. Second, 'stopping' is not staying in one place; it's stopping in a position that's even more stable than where you were. Third... the third is—"

Shen Li paused, as if searching for words, "It's because you don't focus on your own path, but instead watch others walk, that your own path will naturally become straight."

Zhu Biao laughed: "The third point you mentioned seems to have stolen half of what I was going to say today."

"What is the other half?" Shen Li asked.

“It’s about ‘gathering’,” Zhu Biao said. “When you see others walking, your mind wanders outwards. If you bring it back a little, you won’t get tired.”

Shen Li took a deep breath and cupped his hands in greeting: "I have learned a lot."

As noon approached, sunlight gradually pressed down from the eaves. Zhu Yuanzhang arrived silently, still dressed in his everyday clothes.

He walked up to the red rope, touched it, then lowered the end of the rope and stood with the children.

No one called him "Your Majesty," and no one stepped back; everyone simply moved a small step aside to make way for him.

Zhu Yuanzhang touched the rope, a smile playing on his lips: "This red rope looks a bit like the bamboo poles used to be used for drying grain at the village entrance."

“Yes,” Zhu Han said. “Things that are right at your doorstep are the most reliable.”

In the afternoon, we will walk along a sloping alley in the south of the city.

The slope wasn't high, but it was long and slippery after rain. Bai Zan walked in front, carrying a red rope on her shoulder, while Wang Fu brought up the rear, carrying a stool.

Old Shen still held his erhu, playing it as he walked, not like playing a tune, but like talking to the soles of his feet.

"I'll go first." Wang Fu stood at the top of the slope, put the stool aside, kept his toes on the ground, his soles firmly planted, and his shoulders close together.

He took a step forward, slipped a little, and then gently pulled his waist and back together, like a carp flipping over, spitting that slip back onto the ground.

In the second step, he became smarter and first wiped the muddy film off with the back of his foot before landing.

"This step is crucial," Shi Buwai called from behind. "Whoever wipes first will be the first to be steady."

The crowd followed his example, walking slowly up the slope.

In the middle of the slope, there was a place crowded with people squatting down—it turned out to be a pancake vendor carrying a shoulder pole, but the pole was too low, so he had to rub against the ground and couldn't move forward.

The crowd was jostling and hissing, and the pancake vendor was sweating profusely with anxiety.

“Lift the load,” Zhu Han said, “raise it by one inch.”

"I can't lift it," the pancake vendor lamented. "It's tied by a rope."

"Lend it to me." Shen Li stepped forward, his fingers lifting and pulling on the knot, turning a dead knot into a live one.

He quickly shortened the rope and raised the carrying pole. The pancake vendor switched shoulders, and sure enough, it felt lighter.

"The techniques you train at your martial arts school aren't just for hitting people," Shi Buwai scoffed, "they can also save you from knots."

Shen Li couldn't help but laugh: "I just started learning too."

After walking through the alley, the crowd dispersed into several strands, and by the time we returned to the old school, the sky was already turning west.

The red rope on the door had an extra section; the children had added it themselves.

They tied their favorite flower knots to the rope, some crooked, some straight, some too tight, some too loose, but all were beautiful.

The small wooden box was filled with even more slips of paper from shoe borrowers, and the straw sandal seller's eyes crinkled with laughter.

"Your Highness." A series of hurried footsteps stopped outside the door. It was Manager Liu. He was carrying a small cloth bag, which was bulging with contents.

As soon as he entered, he dumped the cloth bag onto the table, revealing a pile of small wooden plaques, each about the size of a palm. Each plaque had a shallow indentation carved on it, not a word, but a shape—round, square, arc, straight, like various bends on a road.

"I carved it." Manager Liu was both proud and embarrassed. "Mr. Gu said he wouldn't write anything, so I carved the shape. Whoever touched it will remember the shape of the curve."

“Okay.” Zhu Han picked up a piece of “arc” and ran his fingertip around the concave area. He smiled and said, “You’ve earned money from the wood, and you’ve also won people’s hearts.”

Manager Liu blushed and waved his hand, "I didn't mean that. I just had an itch to carve."

"Put it in the west of the city tomorrow." Zhu Biao took it. "There are many twists and turns in the alleys over there."

"I'll go!" Shopkeeper Liu exclaimed happily. "I've carved twenty pieces."

"Twenty pieces aren't enough," Shi Buwai snorted. "You can carve ten more tomorrow, in the shape of 'Huan'."

“What does ‘slow down’ mean?” Manager Liu scratched his head.

"Like the wind blowing through a bamboo forest."

Old Shen smiled, raised his bow and gently drew an arc in the air, slowly descending from high to low. "Did you hear that? That's 'slow'."

Manager Liu was stunned for a moment, then suddenly realized: "I know, I'll carve a thin, long groove that runs from one end to the other."

Night crept into the corridor, and lights began to illuminate the space one by one.

Everyone was busy with their own tasks: oiling wooden signs, tying knots with red rope, drawing lines on boards, and drying shoe soles.

Zhu Yuanzhang sat on the threshold, surrounded by several children.

He broke open a date and gave half to the youngest person next to him: "Don't rush to eat it, smell it first. If you smell it, you won't want to swallow it."

The child smelled it first, his eyes shining: "It smells good." "It's the same when you walk," Zhu Yuanzhang said, "Smell it first, don't rush to run."

The child laughed and shared the date with another child: "You smell it too."

Bai Yu brought over a small drum and gently placed it in front of Li Yu: "Today, you will not beat the open drum, but only the drum of your heart. The open drum is reserved for newcomers."

Li Yu nodded: "I have a plan in mind."

“I can hear the pounding in your heart,” Zhu Biao laughed. “Tomorrow you’ll come with me to a place.”

"Where?" Li Yu asked nervously.

"The stage," Zhu Biao said in a low voice, "The troupe over at Nanshikou is setting up a stage. The actors are also walking on the steps; let's go listen to their 'clappers'."

"I...I've never seen a play before." Li Yu felt a chill in his heart.

“We’re not watching the play,” Zhu Biao laughed. “We’re watching feet.”

The next day at noon, at Nanshikou.

The makeshift stage was under construction, with wooden beams crisscrossing and ropes taut.

A group of onlookers arrived first, holding sunflower seeds in their hands and towels draped over their shoulders.

The actors, with half their makeup on and papers stuffed in their sleeves, were busy at work.

A young boy was moving a table with a loud clatter when the steward suddenly turned around and shouted, "Be gentle!"

"Excuse me." Zhu Biao led Li Yu and Gu Chen through the crowd and stood behind the frame next to the stage.

On stage, someone stepped forward, and the wooden planks echoed with a "thump-thump." Gu Chen pricked up his ears: "They also 'stop' with their feet."

"Yes." A soft female voice whispered behind them.

The three turned around and saw a woman with delicate eyebrows and eyes standing by the wooden pillar. She hadn't changed her clothes, and half of her face was covered in white powder, with only half of her left eyebrow drawn on.

She put her finger to her lips. "Shh. When I come on stage later, listen—our 'slow tempo' is your 'slow tempo'."

"You also use a 'board' to teach walking?" Zhu Biao asked in surprise.

"We earn our living with our feet," the woman laughed. "When our feet are disordered, our voices are disordered too. You hang your red ropes at the door, we hang our red ropes on our hearts. Look—"

She gently lifted her foot, her sole touching the wooden board. First, she made a very light rub, as if brushing away dust, then her heel landed, her toes touched the ground, her waist and back tightened, and her sleeves slowly rolled up.

She didn't sing, but it sounded like she sang an "ee-ya." Li Yu was stunned and couldn't help but gently tap his chest three times.

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

“My name is Su Zhi.” The woman smiled, covering half of her face with her sleeve. “My mother said my smile is like a sesame flower in the field.”

"What are you singing today?" Gu Chen asked.

“Lifting the Curtain.” Su Zhi glanced at the drum on the stage. “The clapper’s voice is hoarse today. He said he wants me to slow down his beat. When I come out, I will roll up my sleeves a little slower so that he can slow down with me.”

“You’re bringing people with you too,” Zhu Biao said.

“Bring people along, and there’s something to see.” Su Zhi tilted her head. “The shoes on your door are part of the story too.”

"A play?" Li Yu repeated softly.

“Everyone is drawing their own path,” Suzhi said. “You hang up your shoes, we hang up our sleeves. It’s all about making it clear at a glance who is walking steadily today.”

Before she finished speaking, the opening act began on stage.

Su Zhi lifted her skirt and stepped onto the stage, attracting the attention of the three men.

Her first step landed on the table, and the sound wasn't loud, but rather a "gulp" like a breath being sucked into the wood.

The second step is hidden in her sleeve, the third step is in her eyes—she raised an eyebrow, and the audience fell silent.

Li Yu's fingers landed lightly on his chest, perfectly matching the rhythm of her movements.

"You have her in your heart." Zhu Biao smiled and gritted his teeth. "Don't be afraid."

“I’m not afraid.” Li Yu’s eyes shone brightly, like obsidian filled with water.

After the performance, Su-Chih came out from backstage, sweat dripping from her temples: "Your rhythm is great."

“Your board is nice,” Gu Chen said. “We’ll borrow half of it.”

“I’ll lend it to you,” Su Zhi said generously. “You can stand in the audience tomorrow, and I’ll guide you through three steps.”

They agreed to meet the next day. By the time they left the stage, the sun was already setting.

The red rope in front of the old school gate was worn smooth by being touched, and the knots tied by the children on the rope were quietly smoothed out by the adults. After being smoothed out, the children pulled it crooked again and smoothed it out again.

There's an extra pair of shoes on the door today. They belong to the woman who carries the load on her shoulder pole. The toes are old, the uppers are new, and the soles have a dense grass pattern like the furrows in a field.

"Your Highness." Han Ding arrived in a hurry with three new students, his eyes filled with excitement. "We saw your red rope on the road. There's a wooden post at the intersection where many people slow down. The students suggested that we carve the seven characters 'Stand, Walk, Gather, Yield, Turn, Stop, Slow Down' inside the gate of the Imperial Academy, with a small indentation under each character so that people can touch it before leaving."

“Don’t carve words,” Zhu Han said. “Words are on the book, meaning is in the ground. You’re carving rigid forms, shapes, grooves, and knots. Put the words back in your lecture rooms, and only leave things you can touch outside the door.”

Han Ding was taken aback, then burst into laughter: "Yes."

Dusk fell. As usual, Zhu Yuanzhang was the last to leave.

He ran his hand along the red string from one end to the other, stopping at the tiny donut drawn by the sugar painting vendor. With a flick of his fingertip, he seemed to put all the day's frustrations into it.

He turned to look at Zhu Han: "Little brother, do you remember the first day Wang Fu stepped in the mud?"

"I remember," Zhu Han smiled. "My left foot is half an ounce heavier than my right foot."

"Now the burden on his shoulders has eased."

Zhu Yuanzhang watched as Wang Fu leaned a stool against the doorway and silently handed it to a child. "He's not in a hurry to be number one now. He's learned to 'yield'."

"He even stole two lines from Suzhi today," Bai Yu chimed in, "and hummed along from the audience."

Zhu Han smiled but didn't say anything.

He looked at the words "Listen to the Wind" above the door, at the shoes on the door, at the red rope, the wooden plank, the small wooden box, and the old felt—these rough little objects were like seeds scattered throughout the city, falling everywhere with the wind, quiet yet powerful.

As night deepened and people dispersed, the wind gently swayed the red rope.

Zhu Han walked to the wooden sign, reached out and placed the new sign for "Slow Down" next to the sign for "Stop", and moved the sign for "Let Go" an inch to the center.

As he was moving, a light suddenly appeared at his feet; it was Li Yu holding the drum beside him.

"Your Highness," Li Yu whispered, "I learned a little something from under the stage today. I think... I won't beat the drum tomorrow. I want to observe people's breathing."

"Okay." Zhu Han looked down at him. "Breathing is the rhythm. Whoever you look at will be half a step steadyer."

“Then I’ll watch you first.” Li Yu suddenly revealed a very serious, childlike smile. “I’ll watch you take three steps.”

"I'm leaving." Zhu Han placed his hand on the edge of the wooden sign, as if he were placing it on the shoulder of an old friend.

He walked forward, the first step was light, the second step was not light, and the third step was very small.

Li Yu's eyes remained fixed, as if he had mentally written these three steps into some kind of invisible symbol.

“Your Highness.” Shi Buwai leaned against the threshold, his half-closed eyes suddenly widening, “I suddenly understand something.”

"explain."

"The road is not under your feet, but in the eyes of others."

Shi Buwai said slowly, "I used to push people forward with my words, but now I've learned to draw them in with my eyes. When he sees me looking at him, he becomes aloof." (End of Chapter)