Travel back in time and become Chongzhen, watch me turn the tide

Honghuabu Village in Tancheng County, Yizhou, resembles a dazzling pearl embedded in the earth. Its unique geographical location allows it to enjoy the bounty of mountains and rivers. Nearby lies the clear, winding Shu River, its rippling waters like a wisp of silk, winding through the village. Sunlight casts a shimmering light on the water, like a thousand pieces of gold scattering across the surface. In the distance, the majestic, peaked Maling Mountain rises majestically, shrouded in mist and clouds, like a giant guarding this fertile land. Because it controls a crucial waterway connecting the north and the south, merchant ships once plyed the village daily, their dense sails rising and falling like clouds billowing across the sky. Over time, this place has not only become a key wharf for merchant ships to dock for rest and load and unload goods, with sailors shouting orders and busy moving supplies, and the wharf is filled with a wide variety of goods; it is also a land commercial port connecting roads in all directions, with travelers and merchants from all over the world gathering here, inns and taverns are bustling with people, economic and trade exchanges are frequent, and it is extremely popular.

Even after enduring numerous wars and years of unrest and chaos, the city's prosperity remained undiminished. The streets and alleys were still bustling with the cries of vendors, children playing and laughing, and the elderly chatting in groups. The air was filled with the aroma of daily life, a vibrant and lively atmosphere. The people possessed a deep resilience, and even after enduring hardships, they were always able to quickly regain their enthusiasm for life, reopening markets and reviving life from the ruins.

The setting sun was intoxicating, its afterglow gently cascading like a golden veil, draping the ancient village in a warm yellow. The crisscrossing rooftops seemed gilded, gleaming with a shimmer; the winding streets were tinged with warmth, the stone pavements gleaming with a faint golden sheen. In this quiet and beautiful moment, a fine puff of dust rose from the official road, shattering the evening's stillness. A small procession slowly approached.

Everyone in the procession carried a bulging bag. A closer look revealed a myriad of makeup props. Pans of vibrant colors filled boxes, compartments filled with vibrant pigments, ready to be applied to facial makeup. Mask molds of varying shapes, from loyal and brave red faces to treacherous white ones, lay dormant. False beards of varying lengths and thicknesses were arranged in a chaotic yet orderly fashion. And then there were the instruments: the huqin, polished to a shine, its strings taut, poised for action. The bronze surfaces of gongs and drums shone faintly, their hammers hanging nearby. The bamboo flutes, soft and elegant, occasionally emitting crisp sounds when clashed. At first glance, the scene truly resembled a roaming troupe of opera performers, making their home far and wide.

The troupe's leader was a middle-aged man, his face weathered yet resolute. He wore a long blue gown, its hems swaying gently in the breeze. Its washed-out, pale hue seemed to silently speak of the hardships and struggles of the past years. The wind and frost had carved deep and shallow wrinkles into his face, but his eyes were bright and focused, revealing the composure of a seasoned veteran. He clutched a faded troupe flag tightly in his hand. The wind had ripped it slightly, its edges fluttering in the breeze. Its color had faded, yet it remained striking, as if upholding the troupe's last remaining dignity and legacy.

Behind him followed a group of actors, young and old. The young ones walked with a vigorous gait, their backs straight, but they couldn't hide the fatigue between their brows and eyes, and sweat trickled down their cheeks, soaking their clothes. The elderly leaned on simple crutches, their steps unsteady, their faces weathered, and every step carried the weight of time. Each one wore the weariness of a long journey, but their eyes still concealed a hint of anticipation for the stage performance.

After the troupe entered Honghuabu Village, the sharp-eyed troupe leader quickly found a spacious, flat space and, with a wave of his hand, signaled everyone to halt. With a shout, the sturdy young men leaped from their horses and rushed to the carriage, deftly unloading the thick wooden planks one by one. Their skillful technique ensured the precise fit of the mortise and tenon joints, their movements seamless and fluid. Their arm muscles tensed, veins bulging slightly. Soon, the framework of the stage took shape. Several female actors were also busy, meticulously arranging their costumes and props. Despite the framing wear and tear from the bumpy journey, the vibrantly colored costumes, their edges frayed and their embroidery threads occasionally falling, still shone in the fading sunlight, exuding a unique and captivating charm. The shimmering gold and silver threads embroidered on the auspicious dragons and phoenixes, flowers, birds, fish, and insects, all vividly alive, seemingly ready to soar and swim from the garments.

This place was already densely populated and bustling with neighbors, and the arrival of the opera troupe was like a boulder dropped into a lake, instantly bringing the once quiet village to a boil. The children, like joyful little birds unleashed, their eyes wide open, faces brimming with curiosity and excitement, ran about, shouting their friends' names at the top of their lungs. Their tender voices echoed like a joyful nursery rhyme. Some children eagerly ran to the stage, reaching out to touch the wooden planks and curiously examine the props. Adults, too, put aside their busy farmwork and needlework, gathered from all directions, their eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation. Farmers returning from the fields dusted off their dirt and hurried over, hoes shouldered. Housewives, taking off their aprons and holding their young children's hands, rushed over with smiles on their faces. For a moment, the open space was bustling with activity.

The simple stage was surprisingly easy to build. Without much effort, a crude yet orderly structure stood before us. Suddenly, a burst of enthusiastic and cheerful gongs and drums rang out, like a charge, shattering the clamor of the crowd. The troupe leader straightened his clothes, smoothing the wrinkles of his long gown with his hands, and steadily walked onto the stage. He stood tall and straight, his back as strong as a pine tree, his eyes sincere. He bowed to the people from all directions, made a long bow, and said in a loud voice: "Dear fellow villagers, our Fu Ming troupe is passing by your precious place today. We are unfamiliar with the place and rely on you for food. We will perform a show for you here, and all we ask for is a little money so that you can have something to eat and get through these difficult times and make a living. If there is anything crude, inappropriate, or offensive in the performance, I hope you will forgive me." The troupe owner spoke sincerely, with a bit of caution in his eyes. After all, as a wandering troupe, they had to visit the local bosses when they first arrived at a place according to the rules. But they were new here and had no idea who to find to smooth the relationship. This opening remark was also to leave themselves a proper way out in case someone tried to provoke trouble or find fault without reason.

After the troupe leader finished speaking, the eager performers filed onto the stage, beginning with thrilling acrobatic feats like stepping on a jar and balancing a vat on their heads. The young performer steadily lifted a large vat, more than a meter tall, with both hands. Veins bulged slightly on his forehead, his muscles tensed. With a roar like a tiger's, he deftly balanced the heavy vat on his head. He then stood on one foot, spinning several times with the grace of a flying swallow, drawing gasps from the audience. The crowd unconsciously took a few steps back, then quickly gathered forward, their eyes wide open, their mouths slightly open, their faces full of shock; then the comedy came on stage, the actors made jokes, acted ugly and funny, their faces painted with exaggerated oil paint, their noses white, their mouths grinning from ear to ear, and they made all kinds of humorous movements, pretending to fall, winking, and making faces, which made the people watching the performance laugh so hard that they fell forward and backward, and the laughter echoed over the village, like a cheerful music, dispelling everyone's fatigue from working all day.

Next up was the actor performing the Lotus Flower Opera. Dressed in a plain short shirt, he held a clapboard and struck it with a rhythmic, "crackling" sound. The performance opened with a widely circulated clip of Hu Yanqing fighting in a martial arts arena. His voice, rich with emotion, captured the heroic spirit of this hero to the fullest. His high pitched voice seemed to pierce the clouds and crack the rocks, while his low pitched voice resembled the gurgling sound of a spring, drawing the audience into the dramatic plot. Then, the scene shifted to a piece praising the Ming Dynasty. The lotus fall is exquisitely written and brilliant in style. It not only recounts the glorious achievements of the Ming Dynasty in the past, from the ambitious hegemony of the founding of the Hongwu Dynasty to the prosperous Yongle Era when all nations came to pay tribute, every event is like a historical scroll slowly unfolding; it also vividly describes the heroic feat of the Ming army defeating the Qing army and regaining Shandong in an unstoppable manner during this period, describing the scenes of Ming army soldiers charging, muskets roaring, and cavalry raising dust on the battlefield, as if the audience were personally on the scene; it also emphasized the current court's people-friendly policies such as reducing taxes in Shandong, with a high-pitched and passionate voice that touched people's hearts. The people below the stage whispered to each other with shining eyes.

Subsequent performances, in addition to the beloved and widely circulated classics, also featured ingenious excerpts depicting passionate stories of resistance against the Qing army and loyalty to the Ming Dynasty. Onstage, the actors sang, recited, acted, and fought with deep emotion, each gesture imbued with the unyielding spirit and resolve of the Ming army and its people. Actors portraying loyal and courageous warriors possessed sharp brows and piercing eyes, singing with bold voices and exuding a sense of righteousness in every gesture. The female roles, portraying delicate women with a heartfelt heart for their country, wept with tenderness as they lamented the brutality of foreign enemies, their tears etched in their voices, evoking a sense of sympathy. The audience, transfixed, immersed in the performance, felt as if they were part of the war-torn world, sharing the characters' joys and sorrows.

In the crowd, Chen Zhenhui, dressed in a blue shirt, looked calm but his gaze was sharp, like an observer lurking in the shadows. He silently observed the expressions of the onlookers, his eyes as sharp as a torch, not missing a single subtle expression. He saw that although everyone was somewhat surprised that this troupe would perform such a profound performance, they were whispering and discussing it. Some elderly people shook their heads and sighed, while others frowned in thought. But when the favorable policies such as tax exemption were mentioned, their eyes clearly showed importance and anticipation, and their eyes brightened instantly. Some people nodded unconsciously, and others murmured in agreement. Chen Zhenhui was secretly delighted. It seemed that this publicity strategy was very effective. All the hard work, months of preparation, and the bumpy journey were finally paying off, like a seed sprouting from a sown seed.

This wandering opera troupe was meticulously assembled by Chen Zhenhui himself, carrying his deep passion and ambition. At that time, the country was shattered, the Qing army was rampaging, and the remnants of the Dashun Army were separatist. The people were lost and helpless in the chaos, and the glory of the Ming Dynasty was tarnished. Chen Zhenhui was heartbroken and determined to step forward, determined to awaken the deep-seated patriotic passion of the Ming people and let that spark spread like a prairie fire. He publicized the preferential policies promulgated by Emperor Chongzhen, such as tax reductions, so that the people could truly feel the court's care and favor, and know that the court still cared about the people. He also united the scattered forces among the people, uniting them to resist the foreign invaders and restore the prosperity of the country.

Like Zhang Huangyan and Chen Zilong, Chen Zhenhui was also dispatched by Emperor Chongzhen to the complex terrain of Shandong. Chongzhen gave him a clear and arduous mission: to penetrate the occupied territories under the guise of the Propaganda and Rectification Office and conduct propaganda work, like lighting a beacon in the darkness, dispelling the confusion and fear of the people and restoring public confidence for the crumbling Ming Dynasty.

In Nanjing, the channels for promoting imperial policies were diverse and meticulous. Besides the highly anticipated Jinling Evening News, dedicated personnel published policy interpretations and answered questions, providing detailed and engaging illustrations, offering a thorough and accessible analysis of the pros and cons of these policies. Inspired by Emperor Chongzhen, scholars such as Hou Fangyu and Chen Zhenhui also meticulously crafted numerous patriotic skits and plays. Performed in Nanjing's brothels and theaters, the actors delivered precise, articulate performances, their every gesture and gesture executed with pinpoint precision. The audiences responded enthusiastically with relentless applause, from high-ranking officials applauding and ordinary citizens weeping. The positive feedback undoubtedly gave Chen Zhenhui immense confidence and inspiration, solidifying his resolve to campaign from street to street.

Upon receiving the assignment, Chen Zhenhui retreated to his study, pondering the matter over and over again, weighing the pros and cons and considering its feasibility. He paced his study, consulting ancient texts for inspiration, and spent long nights with friends seeking advice. Ultimately, he decided to form a roving opera troupe, reaching out to the people, engaging in down-to-earth outreach in the fields and alleyways. This novel idea, when presented to the court, immediately garnered strong support and praise from Emperor Chongzhen, who was delighted, believing it struck a chord and would achieve twice the result with half the effort. He praised Chen Zhenhui's acumen and decisiveness, accrediting him to the task.

To this end, Emperor Chongzhen specifically decreed the establishment of a new Opera Bureau within the Propaganda Department. This bureau was meticulously staffed with officials, including a Ninth-Rank Ambassador, responsible for overseeing overall planning, selecting talented individuals, and allocating resources; and a Ninth-Rank Deputy Envoy, responsible for assisting in administrative matters, handling miscellaneous tasks, and running errands. This arrangement ensured that Chen Zhenhui could legitimately and smoothly recruit like-minded, skilled artists willing to join him on this adventurous journey to Shandong, a battlefield devoid of gunpowder, to speak for the Ming Dynasty.

Furthermore, considering Chen Zhenhui's journey would be long and treacherous, with bandits and spies constantly lurking in the shadows, Emperor Chongzhen specifically arranged for Zhu Ge to provide personal protection to ensure their safety. Zhu Ge, intent on extending his secret guards' reach into Shandong, expanding his intelligence network and gaining greater control of the situation, immediately dispatched over a hundred elite Secret Guards. Some were incorporated into Chen Zilong's forces, strengthening their military strength and aiding in the front lines. Others, disguised as farmers, blended into the fields and posed as street vendors, secretly protecting Chen Zhenhui and her companions, remaining unnoticed and constantly vigilant of danger.

Chen Zhenhui's mission during this long journey wasn't just propaganda; he also shouldered another crucial task, privately assigned to him by Emperor Chongzhen: researching the lives of ordinary people. He was required to delve into rural villages, living and working alongside the people. Early in the morning, he would accompany farmers in planting rice, stooping and hunched over, his body splattered with mud. At noon, he would help peasant women cook, drenched in smoke and sweat. At night, he would sit on the kang with the elderly, listening to their daily lives and asking about their well-being. He meticulously observed their clothing, food, shelter, and daily routines, their joys and sorrows, listening to their voices, their complaints, their grievances, their worn and patched clothes, their meager meals struggling to fill their stomachs. He listened to their lamentations about heavy taxes and the plagues of banditry. Using this detailed information, he meticulously compiled research reports, which he regularly submitted to Emperor Chongzhen, providing the court with a basis for precise policymaking and addressing the people's pressing needs.

Despite his busy schedule at court, Chongzhen's greatest passion was teaching! He frequently visited the Imperial University and the Imperial Military Academy, where he lectured eloquently and eloquently, citing a wealth of evidence and evidence to teach the art of statecraft and military strategy. When discussing governance, he analyzed the rise and fall of dynasties and summarized their lessons; when discussing military affairs, he used sandbox simulations to impart ingenious strategies for defeating the enemy. Furthermore, he meticulously selected young officials from the court, intensively training them, and honing their skills, hoping to cultivate a cadre of capable officials who could turn the tide.

During each rigorous training session, Chongzhen insisted on personally teaching, imparting his knowledge. At the end of each training session, he would present a topic of profound relevance to current affairs, requiring each participant to dedicate themselves to in-depth research, write a detailed and precise report, and submit it to the emperor for review. This often left the young officials scowling, scratching their heads, and racking their brains for material and ideas. But for Chen Zhenhui, a meticulous and insightful observer, it was like opening the door to a new world, revealing the depth and systematic approach to government affairs, a profound revelation. This sparked his inspiration and led him to propose this ingenious propaganda plan, striving to break new ground in the field and find new vitality for the Ming Dynasty.

After a period of careful observation, field research, and fieldwork, Chen Zhenhui was pleasantly surprised to discover that the troupe's outreach had significantly boosted the people's recognition and loyalty to the Ming Dynasty, especially those from the lower classes and those who had experienced the vicissitudes of life. Gone were the confused, numb looks of the past, replaced by eager anticipation and unwavering trust. Farmers, resting from their work in the fields, spoke of the Ming army's bravery, their eyes filled with longing. Street vendors, chatting with determination, expressed their hope for the Ming Dynasty's revival. Even in areas still occupied by the Qing or Dashun armies, the people secretly longed for the Ming army's swift return and a return to the Ming Dynasty's embrace, like a dark night longing for dawn, a cold winter longing for warm spring.

Chen Zhenhui remembered a story Emperor Chongzhen had told them during a lecture: an army, pursued and blocked by the enemy, marched for twelve months, crossing snow-capped mountains and traversing swamps, fighting as they went. They encountered countless hardships and dangers along the way, yet relying solely on their own two feet, they managed to advance over 20,000 miles. Along the way, they transformed their ideals into seeds, sowing them as they went, and they grew and sprouted, eventually becoming towering trees, ultimately achieving victory!

Chongzhen referred to this march as the Long March. He described it as a manifesto, declaring to the world his unwavering conviction and unyielding resolve; a propaganda force, spreading ideals and awakening hearts; and a seed drill, sowing the seeds of hope and reaping the fruits of the future. Chen Zhenhui took this to heart. Looking at the people immersed in the opera before him, he clenched his fist, breathed a sigh of relief, and whispered to himself, "Your Majesty, I will do it. And my Ming Dynasty will surely restore its former glory and ensure the people live a happy and prosperous life..." His gaze was resolute, as if he could already see the glorious scene of the Ming Dynasty's restoration and the people's peaceful and prosperous lives. Carrying his mission in mind, he continued on his journey, fearless of all odds.