Zhu Changxun leaned back with a completely unconcerned expression, the kind of relaxed indifference that only someone utterly detached from politics could maintain, because just moments ago he had been startled by the word "rebellion," yet now that he understood the nature of it, all tension had evaporated from his body as if it had never existed in the first place.
If his son had dared to rebel against Dao Xuan Tianzun, then Zhu Changxun would not hesitate for even a second before personally breaking the boy's legs and dragging him back into obedience, because that would be true madness and a direct path to destruction, but rebelling against the Ming Court was, in his mind, an entirely different matter, something so distant from his concerns that it barely qualified as rebellion at all, and so he waved it off internally with the ease of someone dismissing background noise, returning his focus to far more important matters such as food and comfort.
Speaking of food, the so-called Shrimp Balls in his hand were proving to be a rather complicated experience, because while they carried the prestige of being bestowed by Dao Xuan Tianzun and packaged as a delicacy from some mysterious version of Chengdu, the actual taste was, to put it politely, difficult to describe, hovering somewhere between intriguing and deeply confusing, forcing Zhu Changxun to confront the surprising reality that even heavenly cuisine could fail to align with mortal preferences, which in itself felt like a small philosophical revelation that he was not entirely prepared to process.
As he shifted his enormous three-hundred-jin body slightly in his seat, still pondering the meaning of culinary disappointment, a sharp cracking sound suddenly echoed beneath him, followed immediately by the catastrophic collapse of the chair, sending his entire bulk crashing backward onto the ground with a thunderous impact that shook the room.
"Someone, help me up," he shouted, flailing awkwardly like an overturned ornament, his limbs struggling against gravity in a way that was both tragic and faintly absurd.
---
At the same time, out on the streets of Luoyang, the situation could not have been more different, because while Zhu Changxun lay helpless on the ground wrestling with furniture, his son, Zhu Youzhong, was leading a full-scale ideological movement that was beginning to reshape the political atmosphere of the region.
Dressed in clean and orderly scholar robes, Zhu Youzhong marched at the front of a large procession composed of students from Luoyang University, their formation disciplined and their expressions resolute, moving through the streets with a sense of purpose that drew the attention of every passerby, as voices rose in coordinated speeches directed toward the gathered crowd of ordinary citizens.
"Everyone," Zhu Youzhong called out, his voice carrying clearly over the noise of the street, "the Ming dynasty has reached a point where reform is no longer optional but absolutely necessary, because from the founding emperor to Zhu Youjian, sixteen emperors have ruled this land, and among them there have been capable rulers, incompetent rulers, benevolent rulers, and those who brought chaos through their own actions."
As he spoke, the students behind him echoed in rhythm, amplifying his message.
"Every time the throne changes hands, the governing style of the entire nation changes with it," Zhu Youzhong continued, his tone growing sharper, more deliberate. "The personal character of a single emperor determines the fate of millions. Is that not fundamentally unstable? Is that not a danger to the people themselves?"
"It is," the students shouted in unison. "It is deeply flawed."
Zhu Youzhong raised his hand slightly, signaling the next phase of the argument.
"What we need is stability, a system that does not drift with the personality of one ruler, a structure that cannot be thrown into chaos simply because one emperor makes poor decisions, because governance should not depend on the whims of a single individual."
The students responded instantly.
"We reject one-man rule. We demand collective governance."
Zhu Youzhong's eyes swept across the crowd, his confidence building with every response.
"We need capable individuals, people with knowledge and vision, to stand together and assist in governing the state, and when the emperor makes a flawed decision, there must exist a mechanism to correct it, to override it, and to replace it with something better."
"Power must not rest in one voice alone," the students roared back.
"We nominate Zhu Youzhong."
At that moment, the scene took on an even more unusual layer, because a female reporter pushed her way through the crowd, accompanied by a small unit of Sky Battalion personnel carrying a massive, door-sized camera, its presence drawing curious glances as it was carefully positioned to capture the unfolding moment.
Once everything was set, the reporter stepped forward, her tone professional yet probing.
"Mr. Zhu Youzhong, your speech suggests strong views on governance. Are you claiming that you personally have the ability to rule the country?"
Zhu Youzhong immediately shook his head, his expression unexpectedly humble.
"No, not at all. In fact, the more I have studied, the more I have realized how vast knowledge truly is, and how insignificant I am within it, because there are countless things I do not understand, and if I were to govern alone, I would undoubtedly make mistakes just as severe as any emperor before me."
He paused briefly, allowing that statement to settle.
"That is precisely why governance must be collective."
The reporter tilted her head slightly.
"But when too many voices are involved, does that not create confusion, like the saying about too many monks leaving no one to fetch water?"
Zhu Youzhong smiled faintly, clearly having anticipated the question.
"That is why not everyone speaks directly in governance. We select representatives, individuals who can carry the voices of the people. I volunteer myself as one such representative, not just for Luoyang, but for all of Henan. If the people have concerns, they bring them to me, and I bring them into discussion with the ruler."
The reporter continued.
"However, Governor Fan Shangjing has already declared support for you to ascend the throne. What is your stance on that?"
Zhu Youzhong laughed openly, showing no hesitation.
"If the people truly wish for me to take the throne, I will not refuse, but even if I become emperor, I will not rule alone. I will govern through collective decision-making, because that is the only way to ensure stability."
He turned toward the students behind him.
"Am I right?"
The students burst into laughter and shouted back.
"We will support you. You are our student council president. Even if you become emperor, you are still our president."
Zhu Youzhong turned back to the camera, his smile calm and confident.
"You see, we already practice this model. The student council at Luoyang University does not operate under single authority. Every decision is discussed collectively, and each member represents the voice of their respective group."
The reporter nodded slightly.
"Then we look forward to seeing how far this system can go."
At that exact moment, a shout erupted from the edge of the street.
"The Jinyiwei is here."
Zhu Youzhong laughed without hesitation.
"This is Luoyang. I am not afraid of them."
As the Jinyiwei advanced, they were suddenly intercepted by a formation of militia forces under Fan Shangjing, soldiers who had once been private troops but had since been reorganized under Gao Village doctrine, trained under discipline and guided by new principles that fundamentally changed their identity.
The confrontation ended almost instantly.
The Jinyiwei was surrounded and captured before they could even properly react.
Even while being restrained, their leader shouted angrily.
"You rebels have no fear of consequence."
The militia commander walked forward calmly.
"You can shout all you want now. Soon enough, you will stand with us."
"That is nonsense," the man snapped.
The commander pointed toward the center of Luoyang, where a towering, absurdly massive soy sauce bottle stood like a monument that defied logic itself.
"Standing beneath a miracle like that, and you still do not understand what kind of force you are facing?"
Only then did the captured agents truly look.
And for the first time, uncertainty crept into their expressions.
---
Back in the imperial study, Zhu Youjian slammed his hand against the table again, his patience long since exhausted.
"Issue my decree. Gao Jie is to return to Henan immediately and suppress Zhu Youzhong's rebellion without delay."
Chen Xinjia, the newly appointed Minister of War, spoke carefully.
"Your Majesty, Cao Wenzhao has already been redeployed, and now if Gao Jie is withdrawn as well, the forces at Dalinghe will weaken significantly. This could create an opportunity for the Jurchens to advance."
Zhu Youjian did not even hesitate.
"I do not care about them right now," he snapped, his voice sharp with urgency. "Zhu Yujian has already rebelled, and now Zhu Youzhong as well. Princes are rising one after another. That is far more dangerous than any external threat."
He leaned forward, his expression hardening.
"Recall Gao Jie. Bring him back. I want this rebellion crushed immediately."