Chapter Two: The Phoenix Drum of Fengyang
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Zhu Yuanzhang turned toward the sound and saw that the scene at Fengtian Gate Square was markedly different from before. The royal guards displaying the majesty of the dynasty and the grandeur befitting a great nation were still present. However, the courtiers, ministers, envoys from various countries, and some common people who had been standing there to offer their congratulations were now arranged on either side, making way in the center.
In the space they cleared stood a vividly dressed Fengyang Flower Drum troupe. This was a familiar sight during the early years of the Hongwu reign. Every New Year's Day grand court assembly, fellow villagers from Fengyang would come to the capital to pay their respects and celebrate the new year with a performance of their beloved Fengyang Flower Drum.
Listening to the festive and lively prelude of the flower drums, Zhu Yuanzhang, who had been worried moments earlier, instantly felt relieved. He was now certain that at this moment, his sister was still alive and well—nothing had gone wrong.
The Fengyang villagers’ New Year greetings and flower drum performances at the grand court assemblies continued only until the eighth year of Hongwu; after that, they ceased.
As Zhu Yuanzhang exhaled deeply, the flower drum troupe began their singing and dancing performance.
“Speak of Fengyang, speak of Fengyang, hand-beaten flower drums go dong dong.
Fengyang truly is a fine place, where the red dragon rises and the golden phoenix soars.
Count the stars above, and the many generals of Fengyang below!
Speak of Fengyang, speak of Fengyang, hand-beaten flower drums go dong dong.
Fengyang truly is a fine place, the emperor’s grace is vast through all seasons.
No forced labor, no grain tribute, the banks of the Huai River are all joyful and bright!”
These flower drum performers were carefully selected, their singing extraordinarily moving. As the verses ended, applause broke out.
The most excited and joyful, with the loudest cheers, were the nobles from west of the Huai River. The flower drum song touched their very hearts.
Yet Zhu Yuanzhang did not join in the applause; the smile on his face was inscrutable.
In modern times, he had heard a different version of the flower drum song:
“Speak of Fengyang, speak of Fengyang, Fengyang was once a fine place.
Since the rise of Emperor Zhu, nine out of ten years have been barren.
The wealthy sell mules and horses, the poor sell their sons;
This humble one has no sons to sell and carries the flower drum wandering afar!”
When he first heard it, his anger was beyond words.
Later, after extensive online research, he confirmed that this version was composed after the Mongol invaders occupied China, deliberately created to defame him and wholly different from the original flower drum lyrics.
Still, his favorite Fengyang Flower Drum had become a valuable tool for those from Fengyang who begged while traveling. Carrying a flower drum and possessing some talent always earned more than those holding only a broken bowl.
Had he possessed such a talent back then, perhaps his life would not have been so miserable.
However, as such thoughts arose, Zhu Yuanzhang quickly cast them aside.
It was fortunate he lacked that talent; otherwise, he might have survived by begging and living a decent life, never tying a noose around his neck to join the rebel army.
If that had happened, the world would only have gained a beggar named Zhu Chongba, not the Hongwu Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang.
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Though knowing the later version of the flower drum lyrics was fabricated, Zhu Yuanzhang’s mood remained heavy.
He recalled what happened afterward and confirmed the current time: the New Year’s Day grand court assembly of the eighth year of Hongwu.
The flower drum lyrics changed every year, and this was precisely the version he remembered from that year.
He had a deep impression of that year’s lyrics because it was then he ordered that no more villagers from Fengyang be allowed to come to pay New Year's respects, much less perform the flower drum.
There was only one reason: he soon realized these villagers were deceiving him—and the deceit was severe.
Why had he allowed the villagers to come?
Beyond not forgetting his hometown ties, the main reason was to learn about the conditions back in Fengyang through their reports.
But none of the villagers spoke any truth anymore.
Naturally, inviting them lost all meaning.
Zhu Yuanzhang knew the root cause lay with the group led by Li Shanchang.
The Duke of Han!
Zhu Yuanzhang took a deep breath, a complex smile appearing on his face.
Many deeds of Li Shanchang later came to mind.
At that time, Li Shanchang was responsible for the construction of the new capital, Zhongdu.
Persuaded by Li Shanchang and his comrades, Zhu Yuanzhang intended to relocate the capital to Zhongdu.
To facilitate construction, he tightened his belt and allocated vast amounts of funds and grain.
He specifically ordered that the laborers building Zhongdu be fed: one solid meal and one porridge meal daily, the porridge thick enough to hold up chopsticks.
Additionally, each worker was to receive three coins daily.
They were to provide shelter suitable for protection from wind, rain, and cold.
A medical bureau was to be set up to care for the workers, with medical expenses paid by the court.
Laborers could work no more than six hours each day and had two days off per month.
This was the Ming Dynasty, not the Yuan-Mongol regime. People were not to be treated like beasts.
Though not perfect in every detail, efforts were made to care for the workers as much as possible.
Li Shanchang had promised all this, and reports from Fengyang were excellent, clearly following Zhu Yuanzhang’s instructions.
He was pleased and eagerly anticipated the completed Zhongdu and the capital’s relocation.
Only much later did he discover he had been thoroughly deceived.
None of his demands had been met by Li Shanchang.
Not only that, the situation worsened—countless workers building Zhongdu died, families were ruined, and the city itself was built on the blood and tears of the people.
Upon learning this, Zhu Yuanzhang flew into a rage and immediately halted Zhongdu’s construction, abolishing the relocation decree.
This move infuriated Li Shanchang, who felt his face as Duke of Han had been utterly stripped away, driving a wedge between them.
The problems extended far beyond Zhongdu.
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Many nobles from west of the Huai River blatantly ignored the strict orders Zhu Yuanzhang had issued.
They continued to recklessly enclose lands and seize the property of commoners.
Farmland, lakes, forests, tea gardens, and reed marshes—nothing was spared.
They even dared to lay claim to government-operated gold, silver, and copper mines, as well as military agricultural settlements established by the court.
Peasants who resisted were either arrested, beaten, and sent to penal servitude, or outright killed—sometimes the entire families were wiped out.
Zhu Yuanzhang had set up the "Drum of Complaints," allowing wronged commoners to come to the capital and strike the drum.
Once heard, no matter what he was doing, he would immediately stop and personally handle the matter.
Yet since the drum was struck once in the fifth year of Hongwu, and Zhu Yuanzhang had posted an ironclad decree restricting the nobles, it had never sounded again.
At first, he thought his restrictions were effective.
Later, he realized the nobles simply dared not act lawlessly in the capital.
Instead, they shifted their misdeeds to the provinces.
Moreover, they used all manner of means to prevent people from reaching the capital to strike the drum—intercepting them en route, even beating or killing them outright.
Wealthy families relocated from Jiangnan to Zhongdu were utterly exploited by these nobles.
Even the Fengyang villagers were bought off.
Under threats and bribes, none dared to tell him the truth.
They only spoke well, always protecting Duke Han and his associates.
As these revelations surged through his mind, Zhu Yuanzhang’s chest filled with rage.
These people had changed so quickly!
Those who once fiercely hated corrupt officials were now themselves even more corrupt and ruthless.
He realized their hatred was never truly for corrupt officials—they resented only that they themselves were not among the corrupt.
Since Heaven had allowed him to return to the first day of the eighth year of Hongwu and know this, he resolved to intervene.
He must stop this early.
He must decisively crush this wicked trend!
...
“Father, are you feeling unwell?” After the assembly ended and the ministers dispersed, Zhu Biao, dressed in his bright yellow dragon robe, approached Zhu Yuanzhang with concern.
Looking at his eldest son, Zhu Yuanzhang’s heart suddenly ached.
He reached out, grasping Zhu Biao’s hand, unwilling to look away even for a moment.
Afraid that in the blink of an eye, his son might be gone.
His eyes already beginning to redden...
Zhu Biao was taken aback.
Why did his father seem so unusual today?
What was wrong?
The way his father looked at him—it was as if he was seeing him after having lost him...