The gentle breeze sweeping through the hills of Songshan offered no comfort to the hearts of those gathered upon one of its peaks. This was especially true for Zhang Wuji, Zhao Min, and the soldiers led by Wang Baobao with orders to capture the leader of the Ming Jiao[1]. They also sought to force Zhao Min to return to her home, separating her from Zhang Wuji. However, they had just heard the young girl’s confession—that she had already become Zhang Wuji’s wife.
Chaghan Temur stroked his lush beard with his left hand, sunk deep in thought. He was not a man easily intimidated. He knew for a fact that his daughter was incredibly cunning and sharp. Truth be told, he would not mind having a son-in-law like Zhang Wuji—the young man in his twenties currently standing before him—if only he could find a way to avoid accusations from the Yuan Dynasty’s Grand Council that his family intended to rebel against the government. Unfortunately, no such escape route existed. He remained silent for a long time without uttering a single word.
He himself had married at a very young age, to a beautiful wife several years his senior. When he wed, he was only thirteen, merely a year older than Zhao Min was now. Because he was a man, and Zhao Min’s mother was older than him, the dynamic was different; he could not be entirely sure that Zhao Min’s claim of secretly becoming Zhang Wuji’s wife was trustworthy. However, he also knew that Empress Bayan had married at thirteen, fell pregnant shortly after, and bore a son for Emperor Toghon Temur. But his daughter was currently only twelve. Judging by her physical appearance, Chaghan knew with certainty that she had not yet reached puberty. Therefore, in this regard, Zhao Min’s bluff was truly questionable.
Perhaps, due to her immense curiosity, Zhao Min had learned about marital relations from others—perhaps from his concubines, or even her own mother. But to Chaghan, it was highly implausible that his daughter had engaged in husband-and-wife relations with Zhang Wuji, who was much older and surely viewed her as nothing more than a child. With this thought, Chaghan calmed down. He silently decided to grant his daughter's wish to marry Zhang Wuji, though, of course, not in the manner Zhao Min was imagining.
After dismissing everyone, including his adopted son Wang Baobao, Chaghan Temur took a deep breath before speaking slowly. "Wuji, I already know who you are, so there is no need for us to put on an act anymore. It is just the three of us here. Before we speak further, I am curious: what do you think the Ming Jiao actually is?"
Zhang Wuji was greatly startled. Chaghan Temur’s question struck directly at the depths of his heart, disturbing a place where questions regarding the Ming Jiao had long swirled, disrupting his peace day and night. Although he had found vague answers, his understanding was far from satisfying.
He replied, "Wangye[2], from what Wuji understands at this moment, the Ming Jiao is a religious movement originating from Persia. But, to be frank, Zhang Wuji’s knowledge is too shallow to truly comprehend the doctrine itself."
"Correct," Chaghan said with a faint smile. "You are very wise. Your answer is very honest. And I might add, it is not just you; even I do not truly understand the doctrine. But, perhaps you did not know, some of my own ancestors were also followers of the Ming Jiao. In the Tang Dynasty era, this teaching was called Moni Jiao[3]."
This time, Zhang Wuji was truly shocked into silence, unable to say a word.
"I also wish to say," Chaghan continued, seeing the young man’s astonishment, "that actually, even though I am not a follower of the Ming Jiao, I can see that its teachings are very valuable for application in regions like Fujian and Henan, where the populace is full of differences in culture and tradition, including religion. They often seem to conflict with one another."
He smiled faintly as he asked, "After hearing my admission, can you still say that my family and I hate or oppose the Ming Jiao?"
After a long silence, Zhang Wuji finally answered, "Wuji understands. Wangye clearly could not be opposing the Ming Jiao. What Wangye opposes is rebellion."
"You are very intelligent," said Chaghan Temur, pleased. "You grasped my meaning immediately. Now, we shall speak of this one thing—rebellion. You all always speak of getting rid of the Mongols. Who do you think I am?"
Zhang Wuji had been observing Chaghan closely since they stood face-to-face, and he was secretly surprised. Wang Baobao’s appearance indeed reflected the general image of the Mongol people, with high cheekbones and eyes narrower than the average Han from the south. But Chaghan Temur’s eyes were not narrow at all. His facial features clearly indicated that he was a descendant of one of the tribes from the Western Regions, likely influenced by Persian or even Turkic bloodlines. His physique was tall, large, and very imposing. He himself—Zhang Wuji—was considered tall for an average Han, nearly matching Chaghan Temur with only a centimeter or two difference, yet he felt he could never match the man’s naturally massive and sturdy frame. Standing beside Chaghan, he immediately felt as though he were standing beside a giant.
Chaghan Temur’s mustache, beard, and sideburns were very thick yet neatly trimmed, making him look very handsome, though they gave the impression that he was much older than his actual age. Despite the thick facial hair, from this close distance, Zhang Wuji could see that this man surely had not yet reached the age of thirty! His nose was straight and high, very thin—a characteristic of people from the West. His lips were also thin.
Zhang Wuji had often seen people from the Western Regions after the land was conquered by Kublai Khan and became the Yuan Dynasty, but he could not guess precisely where Chaghan’s ancestors hailed from, and thus he could not answer the question. Zhao Min had only inherited a small portion of Chaghan Temur’s features—his high nose and his tall stature—but otherwise, the girl looked different.
Finally, Zhang Wuji said, "Wuji truly does not know. I beg Wangye to explain."
Smiling faintly, Chaghan said, “My ancestors came from the Naiman tribe. Genghis Khan conquered our tribe, and since then, we have assimilated with the Mongols and become ‘Mongolians.’ Originally, my ancestors lived in Beshbalik. After Kublai Khan founded this Yuan Dynasty, they moved to Henan. Well, I myself was born in Henan. So how can you say that I oppose the people of Zhongyuan? Tell me, if you expel me, where do you want me to go? I was born in Zhongyuan, so for me, my homeland is Henan! You want to expel me from my own birthplace?”
Something seemed to strike Zhang Wuji’s mind, but at that moment he couldn’t explain exactly what, and where exactly Chaghan Temur’s words had disturbed him. Chaghan Temur’s words were spoken patiently, as if talking to his own child, “Wuji, to change the law, one must indeed overthrow the state and rebuild it. Another path we can take is to enter the government as officials. But most who enter eventually become corrupt and drown in political games for power and wealth, forgetting their original purpose for joining. Therefore, the simplest thing we can do, if we don’t want to be directly involved, is to govern our own regions well. If you live in Kaifeng, govern Kaifeng well. If in Jiangnan, govern that place well. If the current laws we feel are biased and favor one side, there are still many ways to help the people and create justice. For me, there is nothing worse than a region without law and without government. People will become savage, then do as they please, and ultimately the most powerful person will rule there. In other words — usually — a bandit.”
At this point, Zhang Wuji was truly astonished. He had never heard anyone elaborate on this issue in such a way as Chaghan Temur. He had to admit that his explanation was correct. But what Yang Xiao and the others had put forward also felt right to him. He said, “Wangye, currently the government oppresses the people. A poor citizen will certainly be heavily punished if they do something contrary to an official. But that official may not be punished, even if they actually violate justice by killing innocent common people.”
“Do you think I don’t know about this?” Chaghan Temur said again. “Now I want to ask again. In the area around Ruyang Wangfu, have you found such cases? If you do, report them to me immediately, and I myself will behead the official who did it!”
Zhang Wuji was silent once more. He never forgot how Zhao Min had dealt with Yuan Dynasty soldiers who oppressed the people. Undoubtedly, this must have been the result of Chaghan Temur’s upbringing. Without even careful inspection, he was very confident that in Chaghan’s domain, it would be difficult to find officials who dared to violate the law and commit injustice by exploiting legal loopholes. Even if they managed to escape punishment, then the Eight Divine Arrows would secretly act to eliminate them without giving them a chance to speak further. This was the method used by martial arts heroes (Wulin) to bring justice to the people throughout history. Those who ignored the law, or sought loopholes in its weaknesses for gain, were also ignored by Chaghan in the law to eliminate them.
Chaghan gazed into the distance, his eyes narrowing, though they were not actually narrow. He let out a long sigh before continuing his narrative, “This is precisely what is happening in many places now. Isn’t it very sad if our tranquil home suddenly turns into a den of thieves after the arrival of some people, who claim to come to help the people? Do you know why I rarely appear in the Assembly Hall? Because that’s where all the big-time criminals are entrenched! As soon as I set foot there, people immediately twist what I do, turning it into their own advantage; I’m fortunate if I avoid the misfortune of becoming a criminal. That’s why I eventually feel unable to do anything beyond my own sphere of influence. If you ask about Ruyang, I can answer, but about other regions, I will say I don’t know.” He stared intently at Zhang Wuji, asking, “Where were you born?”
Suddenly, Zhang Wuji felt as if he were a stranger in Zhongyuan. He answered somewhat hesitantly, “Wangye, frankly, Wuji was born on an island, very far from here. On that island, there was no one but my parents and my adoptive father — Xie Xun. My mother called it Binghuo Dao.”
“Hmm! That sounds like an island in the far north, close to Siberia,” Chaghan Temur said. “No wonder you don’t understand what’s really happening here at all. This way, you’ll be easily swayed by everyone in Zhongyuan who actually just wants to use you for their own gain. Have you seen the refugees from the northern regions due to floods and other natural disasters? Most of them are victims of the great flood caused by the overflowing Huang He[3]. Such disasters are truly heartbreaking, and they seem to happen year after year. Now, that problem has actually been resolved, at least not as bad as before, although as a result, rebellions arose in those southern regions. Do you know who solved this flood problem?”
Since he had discussed this matter with Zhang Zhong before, Zhang Wuji could now answer confidently, “Wuji knows about this. That person is Toqto’a!”
“You are right,” Chaghan Temur said. “He is my superior. In this matter, I don’t care how many people oppose him, but I personally believe he is a righteous man. Such a project naturally requires a lot of labor. It’s not a problem if they merely grumble because they are dissatisfied with the payment they receive. But then some people want to use that opportunity to build a rebellion. So, at the official level, Toqto’a is opposed, and at the popular level, people are using the results of his work to find ways to build rebellion! Truly ironic, this is what a righteous man must endure. I cannot tell you the details of what is happening in the palace right now. I want to ask one more thing. Do you two know who those Tibetan monks actually are?”
This time, Zhao Min was also amazed. But Zhang Wuji immediately replied, “Aren’t they Wangye’s own subordinates?”
Chaghan Temur snorted, then said, “You must know. Emperor Toghon Temur is a devout follower of the Tibetan Buddhist Karma Kagyu lineage. He himself invited experts from this lineage to the palace to learn from them. One of them, who now holds an important position, is named Hama. All those monks are Hama’s subordinates. They are placed near me to monitor me. They must obey my orders, but they must also report all my activities to their superior. I also want to tell you now. Hama will soon try to control the palace, and Emperor Toghon Temur will be in his grasp. People like Hama are our true enemies. These monks merely follow their superiors’ orders, and I cannot consider them evil. But I also have no way to drive them away.”
Zhang Wuji and Zhao Min were greatly shocked. “Father, what will you do then?” Zhao Min asked.
Chaghan sighed sadly, then said, “I told you, your actions will surely trouble me. If Wuji were not directly connected to the Ming Cult, the story would be very different. But I know he certainly wouldn’t want to leave the Ming Cult at a time like this, and I don’t want him to either, because precisely by becoming the Ming Cult leader, he will be able to do something for the people, but not in the current way. The only way to avoid disaster is for you to no longer be my daughter. Therefore…” He shifted his gaze to Zhang Wuji, “from now on, I entrust Minmin — my beloved daughter — to you alone. Take good care of her. I trust you will not disappoint my hopes. I only want to warn you of one important thing. Currently, Zhang Shicheng is rebelling in Jiangsu, and Toqto’a will certainly fight him. I don’t know what will happen next. But don’t let you and I face each other as enemies on the battlefield, because at that time, I will certainly carry out my superiors’ orders. I myself would rather die by your hand than have to kill you, because — now that it has come to this — I now regard you as my son-in-law, which means my own child. I will try to avoid war, but if the given order is truly well-founded, how can I refuse it?”
Zhang Wuji was so moved he nearly shed tears. He stammered, “Wangye… I…”
But Chaghan Temur raised his right hand as a signal for him to stop talking. He said, “Our time is very short. I actually wanted to talk at length with you, but now it’s no longer possible. Go as far as you can. Regarding Yuanzhen Dashi, I don’t know where he is. I don’t think he’s too far from Shaolin. But Chen Youliang, you must be careful dealing with him. The problems that occurred in Kai Pang have nothing to do with me. Both of them have very great ambitions, and in my opinion, they are not good at all. That’s all I can say. Go!”
He turned around, then waved to Wang Baobao and all his followers who were waiting far away. Once again, he turned to Zhang Wuji and said kindly, “Even if you still want to continue on this path, I suggest you carefully read about what Zhao Kuangyin did before he founded the Song Dynasty. Perhaps you haven’t heard, Zhao Kuangyin also came from Henan.” Then he walked gloomily down the hill, leading his horse. He didn’t even ride it. Quickly, Wang Baobao and the others arrived near him and followed him.
Zhang Wuji and Zhao Min remained stunned in their original spot, watching them leave. But about twenty paces later, Chaghan Temur turned back and said in a loud voice, “Minmin, do you still have money?”
Swallowing her own tears, Zhao Min nodded without speaking.
To his personal guards, Chaghan said, “Give my two best horses to Junzhu.”
One of his personal guards assented, then took two horses and gave them to Zhao Min, then followed Chaghan Temur down the hill. The Tibetan monks who were injured after fighting Zhang Wuji also followed them. In an instant, everyone was gone, and only Zhang Wuji and Zhao Min remained on the hill, still pondering everything General Chaghan Temur had said.
[1] Ming Jiao (明教), literally "The Cult of Light" or "Religion of Light".
[2] Wangye (王爷), "Prince" or "Your Highness". Commoners of the Han ethnicity would typically address a Yuan Dynasty official like Chaghan Temur with this title.
[3] Moni Jiao (摩尼教), "The Religion of Mani", or Manichaeism. [^mo-jiao]: Mo Jiao (魔教), "The Demonic Cult".