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

A silence fell over the room. Outside, the wind swirled fallen leaves, sweeping past the threshold like a pale, cold snake.

Zhu Han turned around: "Let's go to 'Wancheng'."

Inside the room were large boards, branding tools, powder bags, and iron boxes. On the wall hung a diagram showing boards of different sizes and the locations of lamps.

On the table was an account book with three small characters written on the cover: "Entrusted Work Book".

The supply register was filled with densely packed entries, listing the destinations of the goods, including the Ministry of Rites, the Imperial Academy, as well as a few inconspicuous branches such as the Imperial Clan Court and the Censorate's Postal Station.

On the last few pages, there are several private accounts, with the recipient's name consisting of only one character: "Gu".

"Who are you looking after?" Zhu Biao asked.

Zhu Han did not answer, but turned to the inner pages and pulled out a thin note.

The note contained two lines: "Laughter comes from the east, powder goes to the west. Iron whiskers are taken from the north, boards are sent to the south gate."

Four simple sentences, and a net is drawn as swiftly as the wind.

Zhu Han's eyes were deep, and he suddenly laughed: "You've learned the Jianghu passwords quite well."

"Chase?" Zhu Biao's hand was already on the hilt of his sword.

"No rush." ​​Zhu Han tucked the ledger into his sleeve. "If they're going to use the methods of the underworld, they should use the guts of the underworld. What we want is the leader of the net, not the small fish on the edge of the net."

"Which wire should we cut first?"

“Laughter from the East,” Zhu Han said. “Laughter comes from the East, and most of the people who write colloquialisms are from the entertainment district in the East Market. ‘Powder goes west,’ meaning lead powder enters the city from the western suburbs; ‘Iron must be taken from the north,’ meaning ironware workshops are in the northern part of the city; ‘Boards are sent to the south gate,’ meaning goods from the Ministry of Works are shipped through the south gate. All directions are involved, but laughter comes first—first, stop the laughter.”

The next day, in the East Market entertainment district. The storyteller's gavel struck once, and the tea drinkers burst into laughter.

On the small stage, an actor dressed as a censor surnamed Lu trembled before the clapperboard. Someone in the audience jeered, "Show me! It's not gentlemanly not to show me!" The actor imitated a crying tone and recited a string of rhymes, which amused the audience. At the end, he added, "This is the new song 'The Fox's Heart Picture'!"

"Shut up!" A sharp shout rang out, like an axe severing a bridge.

Zhu Biao stepped onto the stage, grabbed the fake clapper from the actor's hand, slapped the back of the clapper, and a thin tube fell out. The tube head was wet and had a pungent, salty smell.

Zhu Han, standing below the stage, bowed to the tea drinkers and said, "Gentlemen, laughter is fine, but making fun of people's hearts is unacceptable."

A tea server paused for a moment, then suddenly raised his hand: "Your Highness, I am illiterate, but I have a daughter who was forced to look in the light of a wooden board the other day. They said she has too many tears and is not honest. My daughter is only twelve years old!"

The crowd in the teahouse was swept up by the wind, and curses, carrying the earthy smell, rose up.

The storyteller's face turned ashen, and he stammered, "I...I only make a living from this..."

"I need to eat, and I need to live too," Zhu Han said calmly. "Tell me: Who taught you the 'Fox Heart Diagram'?"

The storyteller shuddered and his gaze drifted to the backstage area.

His lips moved, and finally he gritted his teeth and said, "Gu... Gu Qingling."

He paused, then added, "The lady was seconded to the Imperial Clan Court and often frequented theaters and singing houses—she wrote lyrics, received money, and gave people laughs."

The name Gu Qingling exploded in the teahouse like a spark falling into a hot oil pan.

“Gu Qingling?” Zhu Biao frowned deeply. “Isn’t she a female official in charge of registers at the Imperial Clan Court? How could she write such colloquialisms?!”

“A female official from the Imperial Clan Court,” Zhu Han slowly walked onto the stage, his gaze sweeping over the crowd like a knife, “yet she appears in the East Market theaters, writing plays, handing out money, and buying people’s smiles—this is no longer a ‘female official,’ but a ‘scammer.’”

The storyteller knelt on the ground, his face ashen: "I...I only follow orders. She said that if this play is performed, it will make the 'Heart Pavilion' even more popular, and people will watch the excitement and get a reward."

"Where does the reward money come from?" Zhu Han asked.

"...In the wooden box that came from the south gate, I only saw the seal of the character 'Gu'."

Zhu Han's eyes darkened slightly, and he tapped the fake board lightly with his fingers: "Gu Qingling is just a name, the end of a thread. If she were truly the owner of the website, she would never show herself; if not, there are others behind her."

He turned to Zhu Biao: "Search the three wards of the entertainment district, check the records of the Imperial Clan Court, and investigate Gu Qingling's comings and goings in the past month. Leave no one she has been in contact with unchecked."

"Yes!" Zhu Biao immediately accepted the order.

Three days later, in the west study of the Prince's mansion.

"Found it." Zhu Biao pushed open the door and walked in, carrying a thick stack of files.
"Gu Qingling was born into a collateral branch of the Gu family and originally had no official rank. She entered the Imperial Clan Court by copying the family genealogy and has been repeatedly seconded to the Imperial Academy, the Court of State Ceremonies, and the Ministry of Works as a clerk in the past three years. She has had several secret meetings with Shao Ji, the official in charge of the Ministry of Works, and has also lingered near 'Golden Palm' Street many times. Most importantly, she twice went into 'South City Junyi' at night and had private conversations with Cao Yan, the head of the post station."

Zhu Han's eyes flickered slightly: "Shao Ji and Cao Yan, one a civil official and the other a military officer, one a department and the other a bureau—this network is indeed quite large."

“There’s one more thing.” Zhu Biao turned to the last page, his voice low. “She went to the inner court three months ago, accompanied by an official from the Imperial Clan Court, to deliver a family genealogy. She was then summoned to the Cining Palace.”

"Cining Palace?" Zhu Han looked up, his eyes suddenly turning cold.

That place is the palace of the Empress Dowager.

Zhu Yuanzhang's biological mother died early, and the woman living in his place was the elder sister of his adoptive mother, Empress Ma. Although she did not interfere in politics, she was in charge of approving imperial edicts, genealogies, and marriages.

“Someone used her to throw this net into the royal family.”

Zhu Han tapped the table. “Once the struggle over the ‘Heart Pavilion’ becomes tainted with the bloodline of the royal family, it will no longer be a power struggle in the officialdom, but a mutual suspicion among the imperial family.”

Zhu Biao clenched his fist: "Uncle, are we going to arrest her?"

"No rush," Zhu Han waved his hand. "She's a buoy in the net, rising to attract fish. If we act now, we'll disturb the water."

"What about that?"

“We’ll set a trap.” Zhu Han’s gaze was deep. “Since they use ‘smiles’ to lure people into their trap, we’ll use ‘sincerity’ to break it.”

"Makoto?"

“Set up a ‘self-reflection platform’ where you don’t examine your heart, question your heart, or force your heart. Ask only one question: ‘Is what you laugh at laughable?’ Let them tell you for themselves what the meaning of their laughter is. If it is truly to satirize the world, they will dare to sign their names; if it is to harm people, they will not dare to put pen to paper.”

Zhu Biao was stunned: "Uncle, isn't this forcing them to show themselves?"

“Exactly,” Zhu Han said calmly. “Fish caught in a net are not afraid of dark water, but they are most afraid of sunlight.”

Three days later, at the east entrance of Xuanyangfang.

A simple wooden platform stands there, without the word "heart" inscribed on it or a plaque that reads "shed". It bears the inscription "Platform for Self-Reflection".

Zhu Han, dressed in a blue robe, personally stepped onto the stage to face hundreds of onlookers and scholars.

"Gentlemen," he said, his voice not loud, yet it pierced through the clamor of the crowd, "today I am not here to discuss official matters, the law, or crimes. I only have one small question for you: Regarding the 'Fox Heart Picture' that you laughed at, do you dare to write the four words 'I believe it to be true' and sign your name?"

A murmur rippled through the audience. Someone scoffed, "Who would write something like this?"

Some people muttered under their breath, "If he really dares to write it, he'll have guts."

After a while, a simply dressed young man squeezed out of the crowd, walked onto the stage, picked up a pen and wrote: "I laugh, but I laugh at those who are hypocritical." He signed his name as "Zhao Shilong".

Zhu Han looked at the paper and nodded: "Okay, those who laugh at fakes are not guilty."

Another person stepped forward and wrote: "I laugh because I laugh at powerful ministers who use their hearts to harm others." He signed his name as "Lu Jingzhi".

Zhu Han nodded again: "There is no fault in laughing at those who are fake."

A third person stepped forward, but hesitated to put pen to paper.

Sweat rolled down his forehead, and the pen trembled on the paper for a long time before finally writing a few words: "I... was just having a laugh."

As soon as I finished writing, I almost collapsed on the ground, as if all my strength had been drained.

Zhu Han looked at the words and suddenly sighed: "A joke, though unintentional, can become a prison for public opinion. Your laughter is not meant to mock or expose, but only to see people tremble; that is the beginning of your 'prison'." The man knelt down with a thud, tears streaming down his face: "Your Highness, I was wrong."

The audience erupted in uproar; this was the first time that people's true feelings had been revealed in such a way.

The laughter ceased, the sarcasm turned into silence, and many people turned away at that moment, unable to look directly at the word "joke" on the paper.

“Remember,” Zhu Han’s voice rang out in the wind, “sarcasm is a blade that cuts through hypocrisy; jest is a fire that burns away ignorance; only ‘playfulness’ is a prison. Your laughter should be light, not a lock.”

After those words were spoken, the entire East Market fell silent.

After that day, the play "The Fox's Heart" almost disappeared from the public eye, and those little notes that relied on ridicule and inventive words to stir people's hearts also vanished.

But Zhu Han knew better than anyone else that this was just cutting one thread; the "net" was still lurking deep inside.

"Gu Qingling's figure appeared at the North City Post Station."

That night, Zhu Biao arrived with a report from his spies: "She disguised herself as a woman and entered the city with two maids, heading north to the 'Iron Beard Workshop'."

“The North.” Zhu Han looked out the window at the night scene. “‘Iron Beard Takes the North,’ indeed they’re going to touch that link.”

"Uncle, should we arrest him?"

"Wait a little longer." Zhu Han's hand paused lightly on the table. "The fish are already in the water, add a few more pieces of bait."

"bait?"

“Fake letters.” Zhu Han’s lips curled into a smirk. “Several secret letters were sent from the Ministry of Works, the Military Command, and the South Gate, all stating that ‘the Emperor has decreed the establishment of the Heart Platform to inform all officials.’ Let them believe it and see how they react.”

"If they believe?"

“Then chaos will ensue.” Zhu Han’s eyes were as cold as the night wind. “If the Net Master is truly in the court, he will definitely seize the opportunity to push the ‘Heart Platform’ to become a reality—at that time, he will have no choice but to show his face.”

A week later, the fake letter was released, and as expected, it caused a stir.

Minister of Revenue Wang Guangyang submitted a memorial: "Your Majesty! With the establishment of the 'Heart Platform,' officials will first examine their own hearts, and the common people will naturally not dare to speak recklessly."

Hu Zhen, Right Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, added: "Those who reflect on their own hearts are the foundation of a wise ruler and a clear law; all officials should take this as a mirror."

In just three days, 27 mid- to high-ranking officials jointly petitioned: "We earnestly request Your Majesty to establish a 'Heart Platform' to reflect the loyalty of all officials."

Zhu Han sat in his study, looking at the stack of petitions, his fingers tightening little by little: "They've arrived."

“Uncle, of these twenty-seven people, fourteen have dealings with the Gu family.”

Zhu Biao handed over the list of spies, saying, "They are the backbone of the network."

"There are thirteen people left."

Zhu Han said, "These thirteen people may be the 'external skeletons' of the website owner."

"So how do we respond?"

Zhu Biao's brows were furrowed deeply. "If the 'Heart Platform' is truly established, even if Father doesn't believe it, they can still use it to their advantage. At that time—"

"At that time, the imperial court will become a 'big heart shed'."

Zhu Han coldly replied, "All ministers, members of the imperial family, and scholars, first examine your hearts, then discuss matters; first confess your crimes, then seek merit."

“That’s the nation’s prison,” Zhu Biao murmured.

“So—” Zhu Han stood up, his eyes suddenly sharpening, “we need to set up a fake ‘Heart Platform’.”

"Fake?" Zhu Biao was taken aback.

“Yes.” Zhu Han said slowly and deliberately, “Set up a fake ‘Heart Platform’, but don’t reflect the ‘heart’, but reflect the ‘intention’—intention is what one desires. Let those who invite the ‘Heart Platform’ go up one by one and write down what they most want to achieve through the ‘Heart Platform’.”

“They can’t write.” Zhu Biao shook his head.

“If they don’t write it down, they’re guilty; if they do write it down, they’ll reveal their true intentions.”

Zhu Han sneered, "They think they're weaving a net, but little do they know the net has already been turned upside down on them."

Two days later, a white stone platform was erected in front of the Fengtian Hall, which Zhu Yuanzhang personally named "Jianxin Terrace". However, the inscription on the stele was not the character "heart", but a line of elegant imperial calligraphy: "Illuminate your intentions beforehand, and rectify your heart afterward".

Zhu Yuanzhang sat on the dragon throne, expressionless: "You all say you are willing to let your hearts be the judge, then please first express your intentions. Write down what you desire and ask for, and I will see if it is in line with the country's will."

The main hall was completely silent.

The first to step forward was Wang Guangyang, the Minister of Revenue, who wrote: "Your subject is willing to dedicate himself to the country, reform abuses and manage finances."

Zhu Yuanzhang nodded and ordered his men to record it.

The second was Lu Tingrui, the Imperial Censor, who wrote: "I am willing to use my conscience as a mirror to punish the corrupt and eliminate the wicked."

The third was Shao Ji, the Vice Minister of the Ministry of Justice. He paused for a moment and wrote: "Your Majesty is willing to use your heart as a tool to help Your Majesty distinguish between loyalty and treachery, and to discern the sincerity and falsehood of all officials."

As soon as he finished writing that sentence, a glint flashed in Zhu Han's eyes: "It's been revealed."

"To judge the sincerity or falsehood of all officials"—this is not for the sake of the country, but for the sake of power. If judging people's hearts makes them instruments of the state, then the hearts of the people are completely under one's control.

Four more people wrote the line, "I wish to build a platform to illuminate the hearts of officials first, and then the common people."

Zhu Han wrote down every name; their "intentions" were now laid bare in the sunlight.

After reading these, Zhu Yuanzhang lightly tapped his bamboo cane: "Very good. I will remember your intentions today, and I will see your hearts in the future. If your hearts do not match your intentions—execute them."

A single "Slash!" resounded like thunder. The wind in the hall seemed to cease.

Those officials who had been so confident just moments before turned deathly pale in an instant.

Zhu Han's gaze passed through them and landed in the shadows deep within the hall.

There, a seemingly insignificant figure retreated even further—Gu Yingtai, the head of the Gu family of the Imperial Clan Court.

"Oh it's you."

A cold shiver ran through Zhu Han's heart. Gu Yingtai, Gu Qingling's uncle, was the de facto head of the Gu family clan.

That night, the candlelight in the Prince's study burned until the third watch of the night.

“Uncle, the Gu family are relatives of the imperial family, so Father may not easily take action against them.”

Zhu Biao's expression was grave. "If we really take action, the imperial court will be shaken."

"Therefore, we cannot 'move', we can only 'break'."

Zhu Han's voice was as cold as the night wind, "The Gu family's reach has gone too far, so we'll start by cutting them off from the smallest part—first, cut Gu Qingling, so that the net loses a corner, then cut Shao Ji, so that a tendon is severed."

"What about the website owner?"

"Wait for him to surface on his own."

Zhu Han gazed at the cold moon outside the window, his eyes deep. "A net will close itself if there is no prey. Only then will it be time to capture the dragon."

Zhu Biao remained silent for a long time before suddenly speaking: "Uncle, isn't this road too dangerous?"

Zhu Han looked at him, his eyes gentle: "If you asked about danger, then you're right. The most dangerous thing in governing the world is the heart. Swords cut flesh, but the prison of the heart cuts the soul. If we don't even dare to breathe this air, we are not worthy to sit in the heart of this city." (End of Chapter)