299
Jiangnan — When the People Become the Banner
Jiangnan lay under the deepening shadow of war.
Armies rose and crossed paths, and the functions of cities collapsed one by one.
What remained where the Yuan forces had withdrawn was poverty.
Wherever troops passed, lights went out.
Inside the walls, the people had grown used to a world where power changed hands several times a day.
But that day was different.
The soldiers who entered through the gates carried no drawn blades.
Instead of red banners, dust-stained white silk fluttered before them.
Two characters were written on it.
民安 — "Peace for the People."
People were drawn to those words.
Chen Youliang entered the shabby city walls at the head of his army.
Not cavalry, but infantry.
Not blue armor, but plain clothes.
At his side walked Zhang Hui, Yao Zhang, and a handful of scholars.
At first, the citizens barred their doors.
They feared looting.
But no looting came.
Instead, granaries were opened.
Grain was distributed.
Children appeared first.
"Is it really… for us?"
People gathered one by one.
In their hands were thin rice sacks and cracked bowls.
The rice was dusty.
The bowls were chipped.
But life was returning to their eyes.
Chen Youliang watched in silence.
What unfolded before him was not a city of war.
It was a scene of people being reborn.
A woman stepped forward, holding an infant.
Her voice trembled.
"Are you… just giving this to us?"
Chen answered simply.
"Of course.
It's the tax you once paid.
Think of it as being returned."
She stared at him blankly—
then burst into tears.
People began repeating the words.
"Taxes aren't something you give.
They're something you get back."
As the phrase spread, a strange vibration passed through Nanjing's air.
It wasn't an order.
It wasn't agitation.
It was language awakening the will of the people.
That evening, the streets were lit for the first time in ages.
Bonfires burned.
Lost drums and flutes were taken out and played.
Music rang out in a city at war.
From the battlements, Chen Youliang looked down.
Zhang Hui approached cautiously.
"Your Majesty… they've begun calling you king."
Chen shook his head.
"Don't call me that."
"Then what should they call you?"
He answered slowly.
"Just another person like them."
Zhang Hui turned the words over in his mind.
Chen continued.
"A king stands in for Heaven.
A person stands in for other people.
From now on, I won't stand for Heaven—
I'll stand for their lives."
When one who contends for the realm embraces the hearts of the people,
that power becomes incomparable.
Those who think only of defeating rivals shrink instead.
Chen Youliang's army would be welcomed wherever it went.
Food, weapons, even money would be offered voluntarily by the regions they entered.
Night deepened.
Outside Nanjing's walls, fires still burned—
cooking fires,
fires for warmth.
Chen descended from the battlements and walked among the people.
They recognized him and quietly made way.
From that day on, the place was called
"the city of the people."
Chen Youliang's army was no longer an occupying force,
but what the people called
"the protectors of the city."
The path to Heaven's Mandate is not found by staring at the sky.
It is found by turning people's heads.
Heaven says nothing.
The Third Conference
Outside the north gate, the pale morning mist lifted, and sunlight poured in.
The rain from two days earlier had left the ground soaked.
Water stains still clung to the walls.
That day, the Goryeo envoys passed through the gate once more.
The soldiers lowered their spearpoints to show there was no hostility.
The gates stood wide open.
Inside the city, people were distributing rice from the granaries.
Park Seong-jin watched the scene in silence.
It was different from just days ago.
In the inner hall, Chen Youliang was waiting.
His attire was neat.
Not royal robes—
a black outer garment, a white sash.
"Does this unfamiliar land sit poorly with you?" he asked.
There was warmth in his voice now, where authority once stood.
Park bowed.
"I didn't expect such change."
Chen smiled.
"I thought hard about what you said.
When I let go of the idea that Heaven had chosen me, the world changed."
He exhaled softly.
"If I act well, Heaven may help me.
But shouting that Heaven chose me never made people accept it.
Such a simple truth… how did I forget it?"
He continued quietly.
"The people told me this:
not Heaven, but I fed them and kept them alive."
He lifted his head.
"That's when I understood.
From now on, I must fight for them.
Only then do I deserve to be king."
Chen stepped closer and stopped before Park.
"What you called the 'will of people'—
now I know what it is."
Park lowered his head.
"It means sharing benefit,
and carrying life together."
"Yes."
Chen nodded.
"That's why I've decided."
He gestured to a soldier.
The soldier brought a small red seal.
Chen Youliang held it out with both hands.
"This is my army's seal.
A pledge that we stand with Goryeo."
Park stared, startled.
"Your Majesty—there's no need to go this far—"
Chen's voice hardened.
"Heaven is distant now.
The will of people is close."
"I will pacify Jiangnan with you.
This war is not conquest—
it is the setting of the world right."
Park fell silent.
A strange light passed through his eyes.
"Now I finally understand why we came."
He bent at the waist, hands clasped.
"Goryeo will fight alongside the people of Jiangnan."
Chen smiled.
"A war of popular will.
The righteousness of people outweighs Heaven's grand cause."
He extended his hand.
Park took it.
The moment was brief.
That handshake was a promise between two nations.
That afternoon, Chen Youliang stood with the Goryeo envoys atop the northern tower, facing the people.
The wind rose.
Countless faces lifted toward the sky.
Chen drew his sword and raised it high.
Sunlight caught on the blade.
"From today on—
the owner of this land is not Heaven!
The owners of this land are you!"
Thousands roared in response.
The sound shook the walls,
echoing far into the distance.
Watching, Park Seong-jin murmured softly.
"The war ended—
and another war has begun."
"Heaven is silent.
The will of people is the Mandate now."
Chen asked,
"You're young.
Where did you learn such principles?"
"From a place called Hwaju," Park replied.
"My teacher—someone who knew nothing of governance—came down and taught us."
"He taught us how to live together."
Chen smiled.
"Ah.
So such a teacher exists."
"When the war ends, I'll return there," Park said.
"To my teacher's place of practice."