My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

The next few days of the voyage were blessed with good weather and calm seas.

The massive royal fleet, like a string of pearls, adorned the vast and boundless river, sailing gracefully towards Nanjing, the secondary capital.

Apart from encountering two days of persistent spring rain along the way, which made the river surface misty and forced the boat to slow down slightly, the journey was not hindered by any other obstacles.

The sky, washed clean by the spring rain, was exceptionally clear, and the scenery on both banks was becoming increasingly lush and verdant. The water town landscape, so different from that of the north, was now clearly visible.

Finally, on a clear morning, the fleet entered the waters of Longjiang Pass.

Located in the west of Nanjing, this place guards the confluence of the Outer Qinhuai River and the Yangtze River, and was the most important official wharf and canal transport hub in Nanjing during the Ming Dynasty.

Looking from afar, the dock was already packed with people, with flags waving and ceremonial guards standing tall.

The wide official road leading from Nanjing city to the dock was also crowded with carriages and horses, and teeming with people.

The civil and military officials, noble families, and ordinary people who came to see the emperor's face after hearing the news had already surrounded the docks in layers, and the clamor could be faintly heard across the wide river.

Such a grand occasion is truly a once-in-a-century event.

It should be noted that since the Southern Tour of Emperor Zhengde of the Ming Dynasty, Zhu Houzhao, the emperors of the Ming Dynasty had not set foot in Nanjing for more than 120 years.

Time flies, and even the etiquette and regulations for welcoming the emperor in Nanjing have become somewhat unfamiliar and vague.

Officials from the Ministry of Rites and the Court of State Ceremonial had to rummage through old documents and consult records from the archives, as well as referencing regulations from Beijing, to barely piece together a complete welcoming ceremony.

Therefore, this welcoming ceremony contained both reverence for the long-absent imperial power and a solemnity that was somewhat rigid due to its antiquity.

For the nobles and officials of Nanjing, this welcoming ceremony was of extraordinary significance.

After all, Emperor Chongzhen's southern tour was not to "flee disaster to the south," but rather to ride the wave of his great victory and to bring with him the clear intention of reorganizing Jiangnan and replenishing the national treasury.

The previous experiences of the nobles in Beijing, as well as the clandestine actions of the Embroidered Uniform Guard in Nanjing, were like an invisible whip hanging over everyone's heads.

Therefore, every important figure at the dock, regardless of their inner thoughts, displayed utmost respect and trepidation, fearing that any mistake in any detail might offend the emperor.

On the top deck of the imperial flagship, Emperor Chongzhen, dressed in a bright yellow casual robe with a black cloak over it, was gazing into the distance from the railing.

As he watched the dock grow closer and clearer, and the bustling crowds become clearer, he was filled with a myriad of emotions.

Since leaving the capital, this vast fleet of ships has been sailing on the Grand Canal and the Yangtze River for nearly two months.

Along the way, he witnessed the devastation and resilience of the North, as well as the prosperity and bustle of the South.

A stark contrast lingered in his mind: even the most ordinary dockworkers and farmers in the south wore coarse cloth clothes that were mostly intact and clean, a stark contrast to the miserable state of the disaster victims in the north, who were barely clothed and dressed in rags.

This seemingly minor difference reflects a huge gap in the foundation of people's livelihood in the two places.

The north has suffered from natural disasters and wars year after year, leaving its people depleted. In contrast, the south is blessed with natural advantages, with few large-scale wars, abundant resources, and a relatively stable life for its people.

Thinking of this, Chongzhen felt a complex mix of emotions, including guilt and sorrow towards the people of the north, as well as a glimmer of hope and calculation for the wealth of the south. In the end, it all turned into a barely audible sigh that dissipated into the river breeze.

"Woo——"

As the deep horn sounded, the fleet slowly approached the dedicated dock, which had already been cleared out and covered with a brand-new red carpet.

The massive ship gently bumped against the wooden dock, producing a dull thud.

In that instant, the previously noisy crowd on the dock suddenly fell silent. Then, like waves of wheat swaying in the wind, starting with the nobles and high-ranking officials at the front, the dark mass of people knelt down in unison.

Civil and military officials, nobles and relatives, soldiers and guards, and even people from afar all prostrated themselves on the ground.

"Greetings, Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty!"

"Greetings, Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty! Long live Your Majesty!"

A deafening roar of "Long live the Emperor!" erupted suddenly, its sound waves soaring into the sky and echoing across the wide river, startling several waterbirds in the distant reeds.
The shouts were unified and loud, filled with a sense of solemnity and an instinctive reverence for imperial power.

Many ordinary people had probably never seen such a scene in their lives, let alone witnessed the emperor's face. At this moment, they all followed the rules they had been repeatedly taught beforehand, bowing their heads deeply, their hearts filled with excitement and fear.

The Ming Dynasty had a strict household registration system, making it difficult for people from the north and south to move around. Being able to "welcome" the emperor so closely was a great achievement for them, something they could boast about to their descendants for the rest of their lives.

Emperor Chongzhen appeared at the ship's side, surrounded by Crown Prince Zhu Cilang, Grand Eunuch Wang Chengen, and a group of close attendants.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his fatigue and the myriad thoughts in his mind, and put on the expression befitting an emperor—majestic yet gentle.

He then slowly descended the specially laid sandalwood gangway decorated with dragon patterns and stepped onto the soil of Nanjing.

Zhu Cilang lagged half a step behind, following calmly.

Chongzhen's gaze slowly swept over the kneeling crowd before him, from the dukes and marquises dressed in magnificent court robes and jade belts, to the civil and military officials arranged by rank and dressed in various colored robes, and then to the densely packed figures of common people in the distance, like ants.

The scene of thousands of people bowing down greatly satisfied his sense of majesty as an emperor and also eased some of his worries about the future.

He couldn't hide his turbulent emotions, but his voice remained steady and strong, carrying clearly forward:
"My beloved ministers, rise. People, rise as well."

"Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindness!"

The crowd kowtowed again before standing up in turn.

While the officials and nobles managed to maintain their composure, the common people, after rising, couldn't help but secretly raise their eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of what the legendary "Son of Heaven" looked like.

The emperor was thin and wiry, with a slightly tired face but bright eyes. He wore a dragon-patterned robe and exuded an imposing aura. He did indeed resemble the emperors in temple statues and New Year paintings, which made people feel even more awe.

Subsequently, led by Xu Wenjue, a meritorious official in charge of Nanjing and Duke of Wei, the leading figures of the remaining institutions such as the Six Ministries, the Censorate, and the Five Military Commissions in Nanjing stepped forward again according to their ranks to pay their respects and offer greetings in a more formal and detailed manner.

Emperor Chongzhen responded with a smile, offering words of comfort and inquiring about the sights and sounds of Nanjing. The atmosphere was quite harmonious.

He knew clearly that the primary purpose of this trip was to appease, deter, and extract financial support from the South, not to incite bloodshed.

Since these local bullies are currently behaving relatively obediently and have shown "sincerity" in recovering arrears and cooperating with the new policies, the emperor is naturally happy to show his benevolent side.

For a time, the emperor and his ministers on the docks conversed in harmony, creating an atmosphere that seemed to depict a scene of a wise ruler and virtuous ministers working together to achieve peace and prosperity.

The elaborate and grand welcoming ceremony at the dock lasted for nearly an hour before finally coming to an end. Emperor Chongzhen boarded the magnificent dragon carriage that had been prepared in advance and carried by thirty-six Jinyiwei guards.

Zhu Cilang followed closely behind in the Crown Prince's carriage, which was of slightly lower rank but still exuded the majesty of the heir apparent.

The massive ceremonial procession began, with the Imperial Guards leading the way and elite troops from the Beijing Garrison flanking them. Drums and music resounded, and banners blotted out the sun as they marched along the wide imperial road, which had already been cleared and placed under martial law, towards the city of Nanjing.

Upon entering Nanjing, the level of security was even higher than outside the city.

Along the main streets, there were guards every five steps and sentries every ten steps, all soldiers in full armor and carrying sharp weapons.

Their expressions were tense, their eyes scanning the rooftops, windows, and any corners that might be hiding danger on both sides of the street.

A somber and tense atmosphere permeated the air.

It's not fair to blame them for making a mountain out of a molehill; they bear a heavy responsibility.

The emperor had not visited for over 120 years, and the garrison and officials in Nanjing had long been accustomed to peaceful times. They had never handled such a high level of security before. What made them even more uneasy was that His Majesty had previously been assassinated in the capital.

If anything were to go wrong in Nanjing, not only would the soldiers be in danger, but their superiors and their superiors' superiors would also be in serious trouble.

To ensure everything went smoothly, the Nanjing government has been digging deep into the ground these days, temporarily "inviting" any scoundrels with a bad record, "dangerous people" with prior convictions, or even just suspicious-looking vagrants into jail to "cooperate with the investigation."

This upheaval, however, brought Nanjing an unprecedented period of peace and tranquility, where no one picked up lost items.

As Zhu Cilang strolled through the streets and alleys of Nanjing, he gently lifted the silk curtain on the side of the imperial carriage and looked out with great interest.

Even though the streets have been cleared and the people are kept at a distance, the splendor of this ancient city still shines through.

The towering city walls are ancient and robust, and the streets and alleys are crisscrossed. Although the flow of people is restricted, the shops lined up on both sides, the towering restaurants, and the exquisite gardens and residences all demonstrate that this place is far richer and more prosperous than the capital cities in the north.

The Qinhuai River meanders through the area, and even before the city lights come on, one can already imagine its enchanting nighttime beauty.

As expected of the capital city chosen by Emperor Taizu, after more than two hundred years of accumulation, its heritage and vitality are truly extraordinary.

Zhu Cilang nodded inwardly, gaining a more intuitive understanding of this political and economic center in the south. Many of his future plans might indeed have to be based here.

The procession did not enter what is now known as the "Ming Palace," which had lost its status after the Jingnan Rebellion and had not been extensively repaired for many years, thus no longer resembling its former appearance.

The emperor's carriage went directly to the luxurious palace that had been prepared in advance, located in the heart of Nanjing.

This place was originally the villa of a nobleman from the previous dynasty. It was later requisitioned by the government and expanded and renovated specifically to accommodate this southern tour.

Upon arriving at the palace, most of the officials and nobles paid their respects and then dispersed, leaving only a few key ministers behind.

Emperor Chongzhen received them again in the main hall of the imperial palace and offered them "comfort" at a closer distance.

It was nothing more than the officials once again expressing their loyalty and reporting some joyous and auspicious "good news," while Chongzhen would offer gentle words of praise, saying things like "You have done a great job guarding the capital" and "I am very pleased."

These superficial formalities, though tedious, are a necessary process for maintaining a semblance of harmony between the emperor and his subjects and for demonstrating the emperor's boundless benevolence.

Zhu Cilang patiently accompanied him for a while, but seeing that the conversation revolved around empty formalities and trivial political matters, he found an excuse to quietly slip away.

Back in his own spacious palace, Zhu Cilang breathed a long sigh of relief.

He instructed someone to prepare a fragrant bath, and then took a comfortable hot bath, washing away the dust and fatigue of his journey.

He then dismissed everyone else, leaving only Zheng Xiaomei by his side.

After several days on the ship, although it wasn't very bumpy, it was still not as stable as being on land. In addition, I had a lot of thoughts on my mind, so my sleep quality wasn't very good.

Now, sitting in this sturdy and magnificent palace, my body and mind are relaxed, and a wave of weariness washes over me.

He held the soft and gentle Zheng Xiaomei in his arms and soon drifted into a deep and sweet dream, a sleep that was exceptionally sound.

After two days of rest, the most important ritual activity was put on the agenda—paying homage at Xiaoling Mausoleum.

The Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum is the joint burial site of Zhu Yuanzhang, the founding emperor of the Ming Dynasty, and Empress Ma. It is located at the southern foot of Zijin Mountain in Nanjing.

For the Ming imperial family, it would be neither proper nor acceptable for them to come to Nanjing without paying homage at the Xiaoling Mausoleum. This was one of the core political rituals of Chongzhen's trip, aimed at demonstrating to the world the legitimacy of his succession to the Taizu lineage and his efforts to revitalize the Ming Dynasty.

The ceremony for worshipping at the mausoleum was solemn, dignified, and extremely complicated.

Starting at dawn, after bathing and changing clothes, with the full ceremonial procession in full swing, Emperor Chongzhen and Emperor Zhu Cilang, dressed in sacrificial robes, under the guidance of officials from the Ministry of Rites, completed step by step the complex rituals of welcoming the gods, laying silk, the first offering, the second offering, the final offering, reading the prayer, sending off the gods, and observing the burning of the torch.

With the sounds of bells and chimes, the elegant music, and the swirling incense smoke, it felt as if we were transcending time and space to have a silent dialogue with the Hongwu Emperor who founded the Ming Dynasty.

By the time all the public and ritualistic procedures were completed, it was nearly dusk.

Emperor Chongzhen dismissed all the officials, ceremonial attendants, and guards who accompanied him, and even ordered his most trusted chief eunuch to wait at a distance.

In front of the vast Xiaoling Mausoleum's main hall, only he and Crown Prince Zhu Cilang remained.

The afterglow of the setting sun slanted in through the tall palace gates, casting long shadows on the polished gold brick floor. The shadows of the portraits of Emperor Taizu and Empress Ma inside the palace were half-lit and half-shadowed, making them appear even more majestic and solemn.

In the portrait, Zhu Yuanzhang is wearing a twelve-symbol imperial robe and a twelve-tassel crown, sitting upright on the dragon throne. He has a full face, fair skin, and regular features. In particular, his phoenix eyes are sharp and majestic. Three long strands of beard flow down his chest. He has a dignified demeanor and is imposing without being angry.

This portrait is completely different from the so-called "shoehorn face" portrait of Zhu Yuanzhang that is widely circulated among the people in later generations, which features a protruding chin, high forehead, and a face full of pockmarks.
This portrait, meticulously painted by court painters under imperial decree, better reflects the majesty and demeanor of a founding emperor, and also better embodies the "imperial countenance" that should be present after he gained power, despite his humble origins, in accordance with Confucian aesthetics.

Zhu Cilang looked at the portrait and understood.

The so-called ugly "shoehorn face" portrait was merely a product of the Manchu concoction after they entered the Central Plains, deliberately fabricated to belittle the founding monarch of the previous dynasty and to spread the "unusual appearance" to prove that their rule was illegitimate. It was then distorted and disseminated with the help of folk legends.

Or perhaps it was a later, sensationalized account that spread misinformation.

Imagine, if Zhu Yuanzhang had really been that ugly, how could he have stood out among the heroes and chaos of the late Yuan Dynasty, and how could he have won over Empress Ma, who had excellent taste and was the adopted daughter of Guo Zixing, and married her and followed her to the death?

Historical truth is often buried in the old documents written by the victors and in the gossip of the common people.

However, none of that matters now.

Most importantly, this portrait represents the roots and legitimacy of the Ming Dynasty, a totem that hangs in the hearts of every descendant of the Zhu Ming, a symbol that evokes both pride and a heavy burden. (End of Chapter)