"What exactly does this 'Sleeve-Cutting Fetish' mean?"
Inside his tent on Mount Baideng, Liu Bang knitted his brows.
Judging by the literal wording, a negative status was certainly something bad, and a passion usually meant an undesirable fondness.
But how did cutting sleeves become an undesirable fondness?
Did it mean he would develop a liking for cutting off his sleeves and showing people his bare arms?
Try as he might, Liu Bang could not work it out.
So he asked in the group.
[Liu Bang: Do either of you know what "Sleeve-Cutting Fetish" means?]
Zhu Yuanzhang was in high spirits and decided to answer one of Liu Bang's questions for free.
[Zhu Yuanzhang: Han Gaozu, this expression actually has something to do with your descendants. "Sleeve-Cutting Fetish" comes from the Book of Han: Biographies of the Favored and refers to an anecdote about Emperor Ai of Han and his favored courtier, Dong Xian. As for its meaning, it is roughly the same as "Longyang's preference." You know what that means, don't you?]
Liu Bang's face darkened further.
In his youth, he had traveled to the State of Wei and served as a retainer to Zhang Er. Of course he knew what "Longyang's preference" meant.
The story concerned Lord Xinling's elder brother, King Anli of Wei, and his favored courtier, Lord Longyang.
It was said that King Anli of Wei favored men and doted on Lord Longyang, who was renowned for his beauty.
Once, while they were fishing together in a boat, Lord Longyang saw King Anli of Wei discard a small fish after catching a larger one. He began pitying himself, afraid that once his beauty faded, some new beauty would replace him.
King Anli of Wei therefore forbade everyone in the kingdom from discussing beautiful people or presenting any more beauties to him, declaring that Lord Longyang alone held his favor.
Later, the story spread among the nobles of every state. By the Qin Dynasty, it had even reached the common people, and "Longyang's preference" became a specific term for a man's fondness for other men.
"So this negative status, 'Sleeve-Cutting Fetish,' means your old man here will fancy men for the next three days?"
After learning what "Sleeve-Cutting Fetish" meant, Liu Bang somehow felt neither embarrassed nor distressed. Instead, a faint excitement stirred within him...
Zhu Yuanzhang badly wanted to see Liu Bang's expression, but unfortunately, he could not. Just as he was about to ask how Liu Bang felt, the Rebel Army Group finally mentioned the rewards for him and Zhang Jiao.
[Administrator: Congratulations to Zhang Jiao and Zhu Yuanzhang for answering correctly! You will each receive a song made especially for you by people of later generations, complete with a video!]
Immediately afterward, two strange icons appeared in the Rebel Army Group, one after another, each bearing words they could read. Both their earlier conversation and the writing attached to these icons appeared in scripts all three men understood.
Liu Bang saw small seal script, while Zhang Jiao saw Han clerical script. Only Zhu Yuanzhang's display consisted almost entirely of popular simplified character forms.
Zhu Yuanzhang could read Han clerical script. Beneath Zhang Jiao's reward icon, he saw the words "Shout rap: 'Yellow Heaven.'"
Beneath his own reward icon were the words: "'Half a Life Ahead' (also known as the 'Great Ming Misfortune Song' and 'Zhu Di's Happy Song')."
The moment he saw those words, the smile vanished from Zhu Yuanzhang's face, and his brows drew tight.
"A song must mean a piece of music, but why is it also called the Great Ming Misfortune Song? And why is it called Zhu Di's Happy Song as well?"
"Could it mean that when the Great Ming falls on bad times, my fourth son will be happy?"
"Why?!"
Just as doubts crowded Zhu Yuanzhang's mind, more words appeared in the group.
[Administrator: The winning song videos will now be played in order.]
Liu Bang, Zhang Jiao, and Zhu Yuanzhang watched the translucent screens before their eyes suddenly turn black. In the darkness, a woman wept and cried for help.
"Someone, please save my child!"
Her voice faded, and more and more sobs, moans, and cries of grief rose around her.
"The rich own fields stretching from path to path, while the poor have not enough land to plant an awl!"
"Disasters and plagues run rampant, yet the court offers no relief. Instead, it crushes us common folk beneath harsh levies and taxes. How does this wretched Heaven expect anyone to survive?!"
"Blue Heaven, do you have eyes?!" Countless people seemed to be crying out the question.
"Blue Heaven is dead!" A piercing voice rang out.
Then the picture finally brightened, though the sky remained gloomy.
Fields lay barren, and the bodies of the starved littered the earth. When the view shifted into a courtyard residence, sick people lay everywhere, inside and out, their faces twisted in pain and their breathing weak.
Only then did Liu Bang and the other two see clearly that the scenery and people were not real. They looked painted, yet bore a striking resemblance to living people.
A middle-aged man dressed as a Daoist, wearing a Yellow Turban, walked among them with several others whose heads were also wrapped in Yellow Turbans. He gave the sick talisman water mixed with medicinal broth or rice gruel.
A young man followed anxiously behind him. "Elder brother, when disciples of our Daoist tradition entangle themselves in the mortal world and meddle with its fortunes, they damage their spiritual cultivation. Do you... do you know what you are about to do?!"
The middle-aged Daoist had reached the outside. At those words, he looked up at the sky and said calmly in that piercing voice, "I do. Treat the sick. Save lives."
Music began, followed by another man's voice, younger yet even more piercing, singing a song none of the three had ever heard.
Even the words sounded different from the refined pronunciation they knew. Fortunately, readable text appeared below.
"I came from the Daoist fold, to heal the sick and save lives."
"Had Heaven and Earth not been heartless, why would I need to conjure ghosts and gods..."
"The day the starved lay everywhere, I longed to win-even just once!"
As the man half-shouted, half-sang, scenes of a world in turmoil shifted across the screen, seemingly recounting the many problems and abuses of the late Han.
"Alas, all beneath Heaven lies gravely sick, yet none in the court will answer."
"The worthless lives those brocade robes speak of are the people of the countryside..."
The rulers and ministers of the late Han treated the common people like grass to be trampled. They ignored natural disasters and human calamities, caring only to sell offices and titles, swarming like flies and skulking like dogs for petty gain.
"A thousand taels buys what rank? Ten thousand buys drinks in the golden hall."
"May your futures shine like brocade-keep a close watch on the heads atop your necks."
"With this broken body, I shall seize creation's power and heal a world beyond all cure!"
"The world calls me a thief, but what have I ever stolen?"
"With clear broth, rice, meat, and grain, I shall make you surrender at the mere sight of us."
"These sons, all skin and bones, are the true backbone of our Great Han!"
The piercing, powerful shout-singing suddenly stopped there. A heartbeat later, sixteen large characters appeared in succession across the lake in the picture, and the voice soared into an outright cry.
"Blue Heaven is dead; the Yellow Heaven shall rise!"
"In the year of Jiazi, great fortune shall bless all beneath Heaven!"
At last, utterly disillusioned with the Great Han court, the Daoist led the thirty-six divisions of the Yellow Turbans and a million starving people to raise their banners in rebellion!
As a suona rang out in the background music, the shout-singing resumed, rising higher still.
"With this flesh and blood alone, I shall do battle with the Blue Heaven!"
"Come, all of you, stand beside me; let fame and fortune fall behind..."
Blood and fire filled the picture. The Yellow Turban Army fought countless battles against the Han Army and the armies of local magnates. Whether victorious or defeated, they never ceased fighting!
"The yellow dragon rises to tread the clouds; let this tiny ant shake down the tree."
"I remember the precepts of my Daoist fold, yet failed to carry on its legacy."
"If all beneath Heaven can be healed, this humble Daoist and the Great Han-shall depart together!"
In the picture, the Yellow Turban Army was defeated in the end.
Yet as Han soldiers slaughtered the Yellow Turbans around the Daoist, he raised his staff high amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood, beneath a sky filled with dark clouds.
"A thousand years of true cultivation-death is all it comes to."
The piercing male voice stopped its shout-singing and sank low.
Then it roared in a deep voice-
"I, Zhang Jiao, a humble Daoist, invite the Great Han to its death!!"
In an instant, heavenly lightning danced wildly across the screen, coiling around the staff before erupting with a thunderous blast that turned the entire picture blinding white.
The video ended there.
Yet Liu Bang on Mount Baideng and Zhu Yuanzhang in the Forbidden City remained stunned.
"Was that... heavenly lightning destroying the world?"
Even Liu Bang, normally so unruffled, frowned.
"What did those moving pictures and shouted lyrics mean? Could they be saying that Zhang Jiao belonged to the Huang-Lao branch of Daoism and truly wielded magic? That, cornered after his defeat, he sacrificed himself to summon heavenly lightning and destroy the elite troops of my Great Han?"
Zhu Yuanzhang was puzzled as well.
"Unofficial histories do claim that Zhang Jiao could heal people with talisman water, scatter beans to create soldiers, and summon Yellow Turban warriors. Some even say he wielded lightning arts. But judging by the fate of Zhang Jiao and the Yellow Turban Army in the official histories, those must be distorted rumors, not to be taken as truth."
"But if Zhang Jiao was merely a heretical Daoist who used the Scripture of Great Peace to preach, gather followers, and rebel, what did the song and those pictures mean?"
"Right, that administrator said the song was made by people of later generations. Could it be a fictional tale they invented, like the romances and supernatural stories of the Tang and Song?"
"That is probably it."
Although Zhu Yuanzhang had now encountered something as extraordinary as the Rebel Army Group, and did not entirely disbelieve in ghosts and gods, he did not think spirits or immortals would interfere in mortal affairs. If they did, the world would have descended into chaos long ago.
Besides, in his fifty years of life, he had never encountered anything uncanny apart from this Rebel Army Group. The occasional rumors were merely people pretending to wield supernatural powers.
"Still, even if those pictures were only inventions of later generations, they show that although the Yellow Turban Rebellion led by Zhang Jiao failed, people in later ages still respected and admired him."
Zhu Yuanzhang himself had risen from the Red Turban Army. Thinking of the scenes of the late Eastern Han depicted in the pictures and lyrics, he too felt that Zhang Jiao had done nothing wrong by leading the Yellow Turban Rebellion.
Zhang Jiao's mistakes lay in rising too hastily and failing to win over local magnates and aristocratic clans, which ultimately brought defeat and death... (Note: these were Zhu Yuanzhang's thoughts based on his current understanding.)
Guangzong, the first year of Zhongping in the Eastern Han.
Still standing atop the city wall, Zhang Jiao now had tears shining in his eyes.
Of course he knew he could not wield lightning arts.
Even his healing talisman water was merely a trick: medicinal broth or rice gruel mixed into talisman water, accompanied by words to comfort the people.
Yet his desire to heal the common people and his resolve to overthrow the Great Han were every bit as genuine as the song and pictures portrayed.
Some denounced him as a heretical Daoist who had plunged the world into chaos for his own selfish desires.
If he truly sought only his own interests, then back when he preached across the land and commanded a million Yellow Turban followers, he could easily have lived in lavish luxury, clad in brocade and feasting on delicacies, through their offerings.
He could even have used his connections with certain aristocratic clans to enter the upper ranks of the Great Han. Perhaps he might eventually have become an imperial preceptor, granted office by the Han emperor himself.
But he had done none of that. Instead, he had devoted himself wholeheartedly to leading the Yellow Turbans in rebellion!
What had he done it for?
Was it not to lead the people of the world in a righteous uprising, as others had at the end of the Qin and under the Xin ruler Wang Mang, overturn the old dynasty, and restore a clear, bright world-giving the countless common folk struggling in bitter waters a way to survive?
Judging by his present circumstances and the song's contents, his hurried uprising had ultimately failed in the original course of history.
Perhaps he had even borne the infamy of a rebel and heretical Daoist through a long stretch of history.
Yet this song showed that, in a world countless years in the future, there were still people who knew him, understood him, and respected him!
Most importantly, in the original course of history, although the Yellow Turbans had fallen, the Great Han had followed them into ruin!
That meant at least half his purpose in leading the Yellow Turbans to rise had been achieved!
That was enough!
At that thought, all the gloom that had accumulated in Zhang Jiao's chest during more than half a month trapped in Guangzong with over a hundred thousand Yellow Turbans was swept away.
His heart, which had begun to waver, grew firm once more.
He turned his gaze toward distant Luoyang, offered a level bow with clasped hands, and spoke the song's final words-
"I, Zhang Jiao, a humble Daoist, invite the Great Han to its death!"