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

“But if he leads the way, it will be a real occupation,” Yang Xian sneered.

"Therefore, we must 'leave half an inch'."

Zhu Biao pointed towards the outside of the palace gate, "There is a ditch under the stone steps in front of the palace. The water flows through the ditch without being wasted or entering anyone's yard. Today, let's move half of that water-blocking stone slab to leave a 'water gap' to solve the immediate problem."

Three days later, if your family members have recovered, bring the children back to feel the rope. At that time, when surveying the land again, first ask each of you what you fear most: drought, flood, or relatives borrowing water during festivals.

I'll first write down the word 'fear' in your names. Next time, whoever fails to keep their word will write their name on the rope. The name written on the rope will be seen by the whole city when they return. This name is not a plaque, but a warning.

A moment of silence fell before the hall. Liu Shan's eyes were already red, and he kowtowed heavily, saying, "Thank you."

Zhang Er's lips moved, as if he still wanted to argue, but suddenly he glanced at the child in his arms, his eyes dimmed, and he said in a low voice, "I'll allow you to lead for three days first."

"It's not 'promise,' it's that you're afraid the word 'half an inch' has

The blind man, who had somehow appeared behind the outermost layer of the crowd, said softly with a smile, "You can only stand still if your heels land first."

This time, even Yang Xian was speechless. He gripped his sleeve, and after a long while, he finally said, "A temporary solution cannot save a lifetime of troubles. How can your method be implemented?"

Zhu Han said, “Don’t push. Just ‘scatter’. Scatter to every neighborhood and trade, to schools, to the gates of government offices, to military camps, to the thresholds of every household— ‘first touch the threshold, then argue.’”

The imperial court doesn't manage the "sheds" (referring to the structures or displays); it only manages the "people"—your and my faces. Give them a blank wooden board to see themselves clearly. Anyone who dares to write on it, anyone who dares to use their name, will have their name scraped off this board. Not beheading, but losing their reputation.

The hall was silent. Zhu Yuanzhang slowly stood up, tapping his bamboo cane on the brick of the hall with a crisp sound: "It's settled then. Yang Xian, I authorize each of your Ministry of Justice, Ministry of Rites, and Ministry of Works to send one person, not to 'build a shed,' but to 'guard the board'—guard that bare wooden board. Whoever writes on the board will be punished. As for the fake shed… Yao Jin!"

"Your subject is here." Yao Jin stepped forward, his arm, wrapped in white cloth, moved slightly beneath his sleeve.

"Within three days, all fake shrines in the city will be destroyed. Anyone found engaging in charlatanry or selling people's hearts will be smashed."

"I understand."

In the afternoon, the clouds parted, and the city was bathed in bright sunlight.

A young man in a blue shirt came down from the shed at Nanshikou, carrying a small wooden box with an iron lock on it.

He walked up to the red rope, touched it, and lingered his palm on the rope for a long time, his eyes seeming to well up with tears.

Zhu Han looked up at him, and he knelt down and kowtowed: "Your Highness, I am the craftsman from Lacquerware Street who once argued with others about drying lacquerware. That day you judged the 'light and darkness' by the light, and I accepted it. I thought about it for a long time after returning home, and then I carved this."

As he spoke, he pushed the wooden box over, opened it, and inside was a palm-sized piece of thin wood—smooth as a mirror, with rounded edges, but a tiny hole carved in the center.

Zhu Han picked it up and tilted it slightly in the light.

The light shining through the small hole narrowed to a single line and focused on a person's face, revealing even the fine lines and patterns of sweat.

"I call it a 'light-fixing plate'."

The young craftsman, his eyes red, smiled and said, “It’s not to judge others, it’s for myself. Whenever my heart is in turmoil, I use this board to look at my face, to see where the sweat is on my forehead, on the bridge of my nose, in the corner of my eyes, or around my lips. I put this board in the shed of my heart, without writing on it. Whoever wants to look at it can look at it.”

Zhu Han pressed the corner of the press board; the texture under his fingertip was fine and warm, like a human pulse.

He suddenly remembered the blind man saying, "Light can speak on its own," and he also remembered Zhu Biao's flute-making that night, where he played five notes without greed. He smiled and said, "Good piece. Put it here."

The young craftsman hung the board on the beam of the shed, and the board reflected the faces of people, some panicked and some calm.

Some people laugh at first glance, while others cry.

The blind man touched the board and whispered, "It's just the shadow of the rope."

“Yes,” Zhu Han said, “the rope is the shadow of the heart.”

Just then, a porter came running up, panting, clutching a wet end of a rope. He said, “Your Highness! We found something else in the makeshift shed in the north of the city—they threaded wire through the rope, so it pricks your hand when you touch it. It's not serious, just enough to draw blood. And there were people selling medicine nearby, calling it a ‘miracle hemostatic medicine.’ This…this is also a shed?”

A wave of anger swept through the crowd. Zhu Han felt a chill on the back of his hand; the hidden ruler was stretched taut in his palm, as if he were about to pluck a string.

He said slowly, "It's not a shed, it's a prison."

He turned to Zhu Biao and said, “Do you see? If even half an inch of the law is taken away by the greed in people’s hearts, it becomes a knife. You must remember—the law must be ‘released’ often, not abandoned, but put back into your heart.”

"I've got it." Zhu Biao's tone was extremely steady, but his eyes were blazing with fire. "Tomorrow I'll go to the Ministry of Justice and 'guard the board' with them."

“Go ahead.” Zhu Han nodded. “But remember, guarding the board isn’t about guarding others, it’s about guarding your own desires.”

Zhu Biao laughed: "Uncle, what you said makes me feel like I'm seeing my own pathetic state every time I see the board."

“A disheveled appearance is just right.” Zhu Han pointed to the thin piece of wood. “Once people see themselves in a disheveled state, they won’t dare to act recklessly.”

The afternoon sunlight cast a golden line on the roof tiles. Zhu Han stood under the eaves, gazing in the direction of Nanshi. The "light-fixing board" swayed slightly in the wind, reflecting the faces of people coming and going, like a mirror polished by their own thoughts.

At that moment, he suddenly had a strange feeling: this place was no longer just a court of iron-fisted laws, but a living, breathing "human heart".

"Uncle, Father summons you to the palace." Zhu Biao's voice came from the other end of the corridor, his tone more urgent than usual.

Zhu Han turned around, his expression indifferent: "Let's go."

The two entered the hall side by side. Before they could get close, they heard a low cough coming from inside. Zhu Yuanzhang was leaning against the dragon bed, his bamboo cane tapping the ground lightly, his brows furrowed.

There was an urgent report in front of him, the ink still wet, but the corners of the paper were already creased from his grip.

"Han." Zhu Yuanzhang raised his head, his gaze heavy. "A report came from the north that someone in Qingzhou, Shandong, used the name 'Xinpeng' to set up a 'Public Trial Hall,' claiming 'people's self-determination,' but in reality, he instigated a private fight, killing and injuring more than ten people."

The air inside the hall seemed to freeze instantly.

Zhu Biao frowned: "Father, could it be that the disaster of the fake shed has spread to other states?"

"Hmph." Zhu Yuanzhang snorted coldly, anger surging in his eyes. "'Shelters' were originally meant to help the people, how did they become private punishments in their hands? If this trend doesn't stop, won't the very foundation of my country be overturned by them under the guise of 'public opinion'?"

"Someone is fanning the flames."

Zhu Han said in a deep voice, “The ‘Heart Canopy’ method has only been in effect for three days, yet fake canopies have already arrived in Qingzhou. This is not a coincidence, but a premeditated scheme. Someone wants to use the banner of ‘people’s hearts’ to turn against the official’s authority.”

"Do you have a plan?" Zhu Yuanzhang looked at him, his voice low and suppressed like thunder.

"Yes." Zhu Han's eyes slowly turned cold.

Zhu Biao was taken aback: "The Inquiry Team? They don't enforce the law, they just ask questions?"

“That’s right,” Zhu Han said. “Words are more powerful than swords, and reason is more important than force. If we immediately resort to cavalry suppression, it will only give them an excuse: ‘The court fears the will of the people, so it kills their voices.’ But if we let them expose their falsehoods in the light, they will have nowhere to hide.”

Zhu Yuanzhang's bamboo cane struck the ground with a deep, resonant thud: "Very well, I'll follow your plan! The Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of War, and the Court of State Ceremonies will each send three people to accompany you into Qingzhou—within three days, I want Qingzhou to be as clear-headed as a mirror."

"I accept the decree."

Two days later, in Qingzhou.

Amidst the blowing sand, a troop of cavalry slowly made their way along the dirt road outside the city. Zhu Han, at the head of the troop, wore a plain official robe, the jade pendant at his waist gently clinking against the hilt of his sword. Zhu Biao rode beside him, his expression solemn. Behind them followed nine officials and thirty elite soldiers. No banners were displayed, no drums were sounded, making them appear like an ordinary traveling party.

"I've been to Qingzhou once before."

Zhu Han squinted at the front, "The local people are fierce and fond of fighting."

If someone takes the lead, a crowd can be gathered in just a few words.

"The one who started this is Liu Jin, a gentry member from Qingzhou."

Du Huai, an official from the Court of State Ceremonial, lowered his voice and said, “This man is known as the head of the ‘Four Dukes of Qingzhou’ and is called ‘Acting on Behalf of Heaven’. He has performed meritorious service in disaster relief in his early years and is supported by the people.”

"Rewarded for disaster relief?" Zhu Han sneered. "What a fine hat. The most dangerous thing about a person is not the knife in their hand, but the halo above their head."

As they spoke, they were already close to the city gate of Qingzhou.

The street was bustling with people. In the square ahead, atop a high platform stood a black wooden sign with three large characters: "Public Spirit Shed".

The audience was packed with people, and the noise was deafening.

An elderly man with white hair and beard stood on the platform, shaking an iron cane in his hand, his voice booming like a bell: "Official laws are far away, but people's hearts are close! The Ming Dynasty has laws, and the people of Qingzhou also have reason! Today, whoever dares to bully my fellow villagers, even if they are princes or nobles, will have to ask me first if I am obedient to them!"

The crowd erupted in cheers. Zhu Han's gaze sharpened: "It's him?"

“Yes.” Du Huai nodded. “Liu Jin—nicknamed ‘Iron Hand of Qingzhou’.”

Zhu Han rode forward, drawing the attention of everyone.

As soon as the official in his green robe appeared, the iron cavalry stopped ten feet away from the platform.

Zhu Han dismounted, put his hands behind his back, and calmly looked at the old man on the high platform.

"Liu Jin of Qingzhou?" His voice wasn't loud, but it drowned out the commotion. "I am here by imperial decree to ask you one question—where did this 'Public Service Pavilion' of yours come from?"

"Heh." Liu Jin sneered, "Your Highness is a man of great importance and has a short memory. Isn't the 'Heart Canopy' method exactly what Your Highness said in court? 'Officials don't manage canopies, canopies are established by the hearts of the people.' I am merely following Your Highness's words."

“Following orders?” Zhu Han stepped forward slowly, each step landing on the stone steps. “Then let me ask you, how many people are on your stage today?”

“A thousand people.” Liu Jin raised his chin.

"A thousand people, a thousand kinds of hearts?" Zhu Han asked.

Liu Jin frowned: "Though people's hearts may differ, the same principles apply."

"Have you ever asked these thousand people what they are 'publicly' advocating?"

Zhu Han's voice suddenly lowered, like a knife being slowly drawn, "So, you alone have the will of a thousand?"

Liu Jin tightened his grip, and his iron crutch slammed on the ground: "I will make my own judgment; Your Highness need not interfere."

“Very well.” Zhu Han nodded. “Since you speak of ‘public-mindedness,’ then I will raise a ‘question’ here.”

After saying this, he turned and nodded to his attendants. Several soldiers carried out a huge wooden board, so shiny it could reflect light, which was the original "Dingguang Board" from Nanshi.

Zhu Han personally placed it below the stage, facing the crowd.

"Everyone," Zhu Han began, his voice steady.

"Today, regardless of whether you are acting out of self-interest or not, I will only ask you one question: Why have you come here? Is it for reason? For profit? For anger? For revenge? Or for the words of the old man on the platform? If you don't even know why you have come, then please leave and don't pretend to be 'self-interested'."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some lowered their heads, some avoided eye contact, while others, moved by the sight, silently stepped forward and shone their light on the reflective surface.

A hunched old man was the first to step forward. His face was covered with wrinkles in the light. He said in a low voice, "My well has been occupied. I've come to demand an explanation."

The second one was a young man with a glint in his eyes: "My family's shop was forced to move by the Liu family. I came here to protest the injustice."

The third one was a well-dressed middle-aged man who stammered for a long time before finally uttering, "I...I was sent by Master Liu."

The crowd surged like a pool of water parted by the wind, and the faces on the screen displayed different expressions—anger, shame, confusion, and fear.

Zhu Han remained silent, simply instructing them to take photos one by one.

Half an hour later, less than three hundred of the thousand men remained.

"Liu Jin," Zhu Han looked up at the stage, "your so-called 'popular support' has dwindled to seventy percent. Do you still want this 'stage'?"

Liu Jin's face turned pale and then red, her lips trembling: "They...they were driven away by you!"

"I didn't force anything."

Zhu Han said, "It was the light that drove them away, it was their own faces that drove them away."

The area in front of the hall was as silent as if it had been submerged in water.

Zhu Biao suddenly stepped forward and said in a clear voice: "The principles of Qingzhou should be based on the hearts of the people, and we must not use public office for private gain. From today onwards, the 'Public Heart Shelter' will be renamed the 'Place for Inquiring About One's Heart.' No private judgments or gatherings are allowed. When people come here, they should first examine their own hearts before stating their own affairs."

A low murmur rippled through the crowd; some wiped away tears, others nodded.

Liu Jin's hands trembled, and the iron crutch fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

His eyes held anger, but also a hint of unspeakable weariness: "Your Highness, you have won today... but you have also destroyed my lifelong belief."

“No.” Zhu Han looked at him gently. “I just want you to see clearly that what you believe in is not ‘public’, but ‘yourself’.”

It was late at night at the Qingzhou Post Station.

A breeze slipped in through the cracks in the paper window, causing the candlelight to flicker. Zhu Biao sat at the table, his hands supporting his chin, looking thoughtful.

“Uncle,” he began, “I was shocked by what I saw today. I thought the application of ‘law’ was merely on paper, but who knew that people’s hearts could change so quickly.”

"The human heart is inherently restless."

Zhu Han picked up his teacup and gently blew on it. "Only when the law grows not on paper, but in people's hearts, does it have roots."

"But what if people's hearts are exploited by wicked people?"

Zhu Biao looked up and said, "If it weren't for the presence of the Imperial Uncle today, Liu Jin might have already rallied a thousand men to rebel."

"Then use an even greater heart to suppress it."

Zhu Han smiled slightly, "It's not about pressing down with a knife, it's about using a mirror. A mirror can reflect evil, but it can also reflect good. If you believe in mirrors, then let everyone in the world look into them. Evil people fear the light, precisely because the light can expose them." (End of Chapter)