Chapter Twenty-Six: Speak Clearly

For the most devout followers of the White Lotus, like Zhao Pusheng, the name “Master Peng” held an almost supernatural power. Peng Yingyu and Han Shantong were figures that could not be avoided in the history of the Red Turban Army at the end of the Yuan dynasty. Not only did they establish the Red Turbans in both the north and south, but they also died on the battlefield soon after the uprising began. Ironically, it was precisely this fate that rendered their images nearly flawless within the faith. Their deaths were so well-timed that all their shortcomings remained hidden, leaving only legends that grew ever more mythic.

Zhao Pusheng was not only an architect of this deification but also its most fervent believer. Though he harbored doubts about Lady Golden Flower, the moment he heard that Peng Yingyu had appeared to her in a dream, he was half-convinced. “When Master Peng was alive, he once said that Golden Flower was the reincarnation of the Dragon Maiden. Perhaps there really was a dream. In any case, we should meet her.”

Li Pusheng, relieved but still wary, added, “Lady Golden Flower requests to see not only the two of us, but also all the commanders, wardens, and captains, so that everyone can witness the heavenly treasure Master Peng bestowed upon her.”

Zhao Pusheng, unwavering in his faith, was now hesitant. “All the commanders, wardens, and captains? Is she truly confident? Not all those men are devoted to the Faith.”

This was the dilemma faced by both branches of the Red Turban Army. Though their uprising was inspired by the White Lotus and Maitreya teachings, and the earliest ranks had been filled with the most zealous believers, the brutal war had exhausted even the most loyal. New recruits poured in, but they diluted the religious fervor of the movement. Even if a new cohort of devotees could be mustered quickly, their faith was not always steadfast, and many veterans had lost hope in their beliefs due to the unrelenting violence.

Though the River Fleet of Lake Chao still upheld the banner of “Restoring Peace,” this was largely due to the efforts of Zhao Pusheng and Li Pusheng. Many of the commanders and captains beneath them had long considered changing allegiances. Zhao Pusheng now feared Lady Golden Flower would not be able to win over these opportunists.

Li Pusheng shared this concern. “I’ve already spoken to Lady Golden Flower, but she is confident. She claims that once the treasure is revealed, the sun and moon will shine anew, the world will be remade, and everyone will gladly follow her.”

Zhao Pusheng was skeptical. “Is it truly so miraculous? I hope Master Peng did not misjudge her. I hope we can continue to rally beneath the banner of Peace.”

He believed not so much in Lady Golden Flower as in Peng Yingyu himself. Peng Yingyu had placed great faith in her, and now, with the River Fleet of Lake Chao squeezed on all sides and no way out, who else was there to trust?

Though Lady Golden Flower assured them that the River Fleet was filled with her old followers and disciples, the reality was starkly different. Once inside the stronghold on Lake Chao, out of every ten men, perhaps only one recognized her, and even then, those few often eyed her with suspicion, or even hostility.

After countless bitter engagements, the core of White Lotus devotees within the fleet had nearly vanished. Most of the soldiers were local fishermen, so destitute that rebellion was their only option. Their ambitions were to plunder the rich and aid the poor, with little interest in the White Lotus or Xu Shouhui’s “Restoring Peace” regime.

Many of these soldiers harbored murderous intentions. They believed Lady Golden Flower sought only to seize their hard-won gains, and feared she would use them as expendable pawns.

Lady Golden Flower sensed the hostility in their eyes. “I hear Zhu Yuanzhang has already struck a deal with informants inside our stronghold. He’s just waiting for the right moment to strike from within. That’s why we must win these men’s trust.”

But to win over the commanders, wardens, and captains was no simple task. As Lady Golden Flower and Liu Yi entered the main hall, someone immediately confronted them. “Marshal Golden Flower, are you holding an edict from the Peace Regime or from the Dragon and Phoenix Regime today? It’s said that you intend to offer our River Fleet as a dowry to Guo Tianxu!”

Before Lady Golden Flower could answer, Liu Yi replied, “Well, whose edict would you prefer? I can write one for you right now! Brother, may I ask your name?”

Since the news was so current, this was surely one of Zhu Yuanzhang’s informants. The dark-faced man replied bluntly, “I am Liao Yong’an.”

Liu Yi remembered the name well. In another history, Liao Yong’an had been one of Zhu Yuanzhang’s top naval commanders. He also had a younger brother, Liao Yongzhong, the very man who drowned Han Lin’er for Zhu Yuanzhang, only to be put to death by the emperor for his treachery. “Let me ask you, General Liao, which path should we choose—Ji Qing or Anqing? If you follow me, Nanjing will soon be ours.”

Within the River Fleet, there had long been a debate over whether to march upstream toward Jinling or downstream toward Nanjing. Most felt Jinling was the better prize, but feared its formidable defenses and the vast number of troops stationed there. To become bogged down at its walls would be to repeat the fate of General Xiang.

Liao Yong’an was unmoved. “General Liu, Ji Qing is not something you can capture with a few magic words. That’s the southern Censorate you’re talking about. Any disturbance, and not only will the Jiangzhe Provincial Administration rush to its aid, but the Jiangxi and Huainan administrations will certainly come as well!”

Liu Yi had anticipated this objection. “True, once we cross the river, Jiangzhe will send reinforcements to Ji Qing, but the Censorate is one thing, Jiangzhe Province another. Do you really think Jiangzhe will abandon Hangzhou just to save Ji Qing?”

Under the Yuan, there were two administrative centers in the south: the Censorate at Ji Qing (Nanjing), which oversaw the three provinces of Jiangzhe, Jiangxi, and Huguang and, in wartime, commanded all forces east of the Yangtze; and the provincial administration at Hangzhou, whose jurisdiction included what would now be all of Zhejiang, Fujian, half of Jiangsu and Anhui, and eastern Jiangxi—a territory akin to the Nanjing military district.

This arrangement was deliberately designed so that the two bodies would compete, never fully cooperate. In peacetime, they undercut each other; in war, they would never truly fight side by side. Liu Yi called out, “Bring me a map. I’ll lay out the advantages and dangers for you all.”