The History of China - #212 - Ming 7: The Incredible Vanishing Emperor!

Episode Date: March 21, 2021

The civil war between the Jianwen Emperor and his uncle, the Prince of Yan, rages on across the realm. Both sides will feel the terror and pain of the fearsome realities combat... but in the end, only one will be left standing. Time Period Covered: 1399-1402 CE Major Historical Figures: The Jianwen Emperor (Zhu Yunwen) [r. 1398-1402] Zhu Di, the Prince of Yan [1360-1424] Minister Huang Zicheng [1350-1402] Minister Qi Tai [d. 1402] Minister Fang Xiaoru [1357-1402] General Geng Bingwen [1334-1403] General Li Jinglong [1369-1424] Major Works Cited: Andrade, Tonio. “How Yongle learned to stop worrying and love the gun” in The Ming World. Chan, Hok-lam. “The Chien-wen, Yung-lo, Hung-hsi, and Hsüan-te Reigns, 1399-1435” in The Cambridge History of China, Vol. 7: The Ming Dynasty, 1368-1633, Part I. Ditmanson, Peter. “Venerating the Martyrs of the 1402 Usurpation: History and Memory in the Mid and late Ming Dynasty” in T’oung Pao, Second Series, Vol. 93. Ditmanson, Peter. “Fang Xiaoru: Moralistic Politics in the Early Ming” in The Human Tradition in Premodern China. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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off your ticket. So get them now before they sell out. All right thanks for listening, and now, on with the show. Hello, and welcome to the History of China. Episode 212, The Incredible Vanishing Emperor. With these two rather smashing victories now under his belt, the Prince of Yan wasn't about to let Li Jinglong just sit in his winter camp and do nothing all winter. The Prince decided on December 6th that the time was right to send another missive to his nephew at the Imperial Court. Quote, In my last message, I informed you that your court is full of treachery and unruly elements, but so far my warnings have been in vain. I must therefore again urgently request that your imperial majesty please punish the traitorous Chi Tai, Huang Zicheng, and their co-collaborators, so that the whole world will know of their misdeeds.

End quote. The Jianwan Emperor declined to respond directly to the message, but he did formally dismiss Qi Tai and Ru Chang from their posts, although he did continue to rely on their advice in private. In mid-January, the Yan army struck again, launching a new winter offensive north-west into Shanxi to take the prefectural city of Datong. By the beginning of February, after encountering virtually no resistance and even picking up several garrisons worth of imperial and Mongolian troops willing to surrender and join the Yan force, they arrived outside the walls of Datong and laid it to siege. Given the strategic importance of Datong to the imperial war effort, Li Jinglong was compelled to rush out a relief force to lift the siege, in spite of the deathly

cold weather raging about his men. Yet by the time that the imperial relief force to lift the siege, in spite of the deathly cold weather raging about his men. Yet by the time that the imperial army arrived to relieve the city in early March, they found that they had made the trip for nothing. The Prince of Yan had actually just been fainting at trying to take Datong in order to draw the general out, and had abandoned the siege and returned his army to the safety of Beiping long before the imperial army had arrived. There had been no battle, and yet the bitter winter would nonetheless continue to sap both the strength and morale of the southern government troops as they staggered back to Shandong, leaving trails of corpses, armor, and equipment strewn behind them as they froze to death. Battle would be rejoined in truth the following April. Finally seeing a break in the winter

weather, Li Jinglong marched out his army, now numbering some 600,000 men, and went back on the offensive, marching north toward the Baigo River, some 50 miles or so southwest of Beiping, where they encountered the Yan army. The imperial army this time managed to ambush the Prince of Yan, even managing to place a number of landmine-esque explosive traps, which, being the total weapons nerd that I am, I had to drop everything and figure out just what they were. The first one mentioned in the veritable records is the ikufeng, or the beehive, which seems to have been a straightforward enough stratnal bomb that, when triggered, would send out hundreds of

flying metal bees to sting, i.e. tear to ribbons, everyone around. The second one, though, was a bit tougher to figure out. It's called the Chai Ma Dan, which is a bit of a puzzle to understand at first. Literally, it's like grab horse Don. Don usually refers to cinnabar and the color red, but also medicine in general and powder. It's weird, depending on the context. So it took some digging, but it turns out that it was essentially a smallish gunpowder cannon that would be partially buried in the ground so that it would be concealed, and it also wouldn't recoil or lose its aim. The name suggests that it was conceived of mostly as an anti-cavalry booby trap. And as for the Dunn, the most reasonable guess I came across was that it was a

somewhat oblique reference to it being gunpowder-based. Thus, my best attempt at translating it would be the Horse Piercing Cannon, or maybe the Horse Blaster 9000, or possibly just the Ken M. Horsey Surprise. Haha, I slay myself. Suffice it to say, the Yen Army's return to camp that day was rather more exciting than they'd anticipated, and the explosive Ming booby traps are said to have inflicted heavy casualties, though no specific numbers are given. At dawn the following day, the two armies marched out to face one another again. This time, Li Jinglong attempted to encircle the Yan forces with a pincer attack from his foe's two flanks,

and even succeeded in penetrating all the way to the Yan rear lines. Prince Zhu Di responded by rallying his personal bodyguard in a direct cavalry charge against the enemy commander himself, but was turned back by the timely arrival of more Ming reinforcements. Just as it seemed that the Imperial Army might have gained a decisive advantage over the rebel prince, though, nature itself intervened. Again from the veritable record, quote, The battle raged on in stalemate, until a sudden gale whipped up, snapping General Lee's command battle flag and throwing his armies into disorder. The prince's men used this confusion to ride around the enemy, setting fires that the wind quickly spread.

By the end of the day, many lay dead, and many others were defeated and taken captive. The officers and troops alike were thrown into chaos and scattered to and fro like thunder. Some scattered to the west, while Li Jinglong himself fled south, throwing off his equipment. The Yan armies pursued his routing force all the way to the Yeyang Bridge, cutting down or capturing more than 100,000 as they fled. As for Jinglong himself, he was able to stagger back to Dezhou in defeat. End quote. The city would prove to be of little security this time, though, as the Prince of Yan was hot on Li Jinglong's heels, investing Dezhou in his seeds just two days later on April 27th, which would last for two weeks before it was surrendered on May 9th. Li Jinglong managed

to escape yet again though, fleeing further south to Jinan, which on May 15th succumbed to a near identical fate. Li Jinglong, now totally defeated, managed to flee once more, now all the way back to Nanjing, virtually alone, and having lost his entire army. The imperial ministers, furious at this humiliating failure, all clamored for his immediate execution, with no less than Huang Zicheng demanding to the emperor, quote, Li's failure is the greatest of calamities! His bungling has irreparably harmed the empire! Even putting him to death 10,000 times wouldn't be enough to atone for his sins! End quote. Even so, Jianwen decided to spare the disgraced former commander's life, though his military career was most definitely at an end.

As for the Prince of Yan, he now found himself in an exceptionally good position, having managed to very effectively whittle down Nanjing's strength, while actually increasing his own, between the fall of 1400 and the spring of 1401, Zhu Di decided to adopt a strategy of attrition. This decision was aided by information leaked to him by turncoat eunuchs and generals who'd either fled the capital or were still there sending him secret missives and informing him that panic had set in among the rank and file of the imperial court. Quote, He employed guerrilla tactics, launching diversionary attacks and feints in the southern part of Beizheli,

which is, by the way, the centrally-administrated province encompassing his own Beiping city and Yanfei, which is mostly modern Hebei. And in western Shandong, where he sought routes to the south that would avoid the fortified strongholds. This began a new phase of the civil war, end quote. But a new Ming commander in chief had been appointed to the Nanjing court, General Sheng Yong, and Sheng would soon give the Prince of Yan what Tonio Andrade describes as, quote, the Di was by this point brimming with confidence, both in his own abilities and those of his men, but also with the ineptitude of the government's commanders yet set against him. As such, he moved against Sheng's command post at Dongchang City, Shandong.

Quote, Although some sources differ on some particulars, the main contours of the battle seem clear. Shen Yong had prepared carefully, feeding his troops, readying the walls, inspecting and reviewing battle formations, and most importantly, preparing and laying out firearms and poison crossbows to await the Prince of Yan. The Prince's troops were confident, having won so many engagements, and they advanced at once upon Shen Yong's troops. But when Shen Yong's guns opened fire, the results were disastrous. The troops of the Prince of Yan were, quote,

all entirely wounded by their firearms, end quote. Shen Yong, spirits buoyed by the arrival of reinforcements, pressed his advantage, and the prince found himself and his cavalry troops completely surrounded. As one source notes, quote, the prince of Yan tried to attack and charge, but he could not escape. The enemy pressed in, and the prince was in grave danger several times, end quote. Luckily for the prince, being of the imperial blood, the Ming armies had strict orders from the very top that no one was to harm a hair on the emperor's uncle's head under any circumstance. Thus, though pitched battle raged about him frighteningly close, none dared strike at Zhu Di himself. At last, a contingent of Mongol troops loyal to the prince managed to penetrate the imperial encirclement and extract him to safety. The rest of his men left behind were not nearly so lucky. Again from Andrade,

quote, in the melees and under the fire of Shang Yong's guns, perhaps 10,000 of the prince's troops expired, end quote. This included a number of his top and most trusted generals, including his personal friend Zhang Yu, who died trying to save him from the encirclement. Zhu Di is later said to have stated, Victory and defeat are part of life, but at a time like this, to have lost such a teacher as Zhang Yu is deeply lamentable.

End quote. The terrible outcome of the Battle of Dongchang left the prince mentally scarred. It's said that he became noticeably irritated whenever it was brought up in his presence, quote, having trouble eating and finding it impossible to rest, end quote. I mean, I'm no psychologist, and even if I were, it's impossible to diagnose a 600-year-old warlord, but that sounds an awful lot like his brush with death and the loss of his friends and comrades gave Zhu Di a perfectly understandable case of PTSD. The Battle of Dong

Chang likewise affected his prosecution of the rest of the war, and well beyond. Gone forever was the brash, bold sense of confident invincibility. Zhu Di had felt, perhaps for the very first time in his life, the cold breath of death on the nape of his neck. And from there on out, the prince proceeded far more cautiously. The Ming history notes that at the beginning of the war, quote, the prince's troops had been victorious and able, and there was nothing like Dong Chang. But from that point forward, the prince of Yan's troops went southward only to Shu and Jin. They didn't dare again go to Shandong, end quote. And again, totally understandable.

We absolutely expect soldiers who fought at the Marne in World War I, or the beaches of Normandy in World War II, to never want to see those places again in their lives. Most of the survivors would scarcely speak of what they'd gone through. It's hardly surprising, then, that even centuries earlier, a particularly traumatic battle could inspire the same lasting psychological effects and gut-level dread in the soldiers who'd watched their comrades-in-arms ripped to shreds all around them. Probably the most important change to the Prince of Yan army's strategic and battle planning, though,

from this point forward, was that from the basic foot soldier to the prince himself, they'd all seen very much firsthand the absolute devastation that massed firearms could wreak on an army caught on their receiving end. Make no mistake now, Zhu Di and the northern armies knew about guns. Guns were nothing new. They'd been a thing in Chinese warfare for more than a century at this point, since the Song. But for the Ming armies of the north, especially, they'd only ever been of a very limited and situational use, for like city defense from the top of a wall. The northern armies had been designed, after all, as a border guard force, tasked mostly with keeping the Mongols and the other step-riders from stirring up too much trouble and hunting them down and capturing them from time to time.

Though guns had made significant technological progress since their early iterations during the Jinsong Wars, they were still heavy, clumsy, inaccurate, and slow-firing weapons, far more akin to an arquebus or a handheld cannon than to something like an AK-47. In other words, it's not a great weapon against swift horse riders sweeping through on a raid, and it's almost impossible to aim while on horseback yourself. Where firearms really did shine, though, was against the type of armies that were far more effective and common in the southern-style warfare than cavalry, which is massed infantry formations, which the prince had just learned firsthand could be cut through like fresh tofu. As such, the Prince of Yan army

began incorporating firearms much more heavily into its battle plans from Dongtang onwards, and to great and terrible effect. Again from Andrade, quote, His gun victories weren't always glorious. On one Andrade, quote, dug. But there were also great gun victories, as when the prince's gunmen terrified Shen Yong himself. The prince dispatched a small force of gunmen to creep close to the great general's encampment. Once within range, they opened fire. The imperials threw down their weapons and ran. Shen Yong was supposedly frozen with fear, unable to climb on his horse, and had to be carried away to a waiting boat. End quote. Bolstered by such victories, borne out with these new weapons and strategies, the Army of Yan renewed its own southward

offensive push. In January of 1402, it set out from Beiping, and with the advice and intel provided by his spies still within the Imperial Palace, proceeded toward the Imperial capital while avoiding the strongholds fortified against him. Within a month, it had captured regions bordering Shandong, though, again, they did not dare venture further into that dreaded peninsula. And by early March, they had captured the city of Shuzhou, just 300 kilometers north of Nanjing itself. In early April, they had taken Suzhou in northern Anhui,

after putting an imperial cavalry force sent to intercept them to rout. Progress was halted in May, when a large imperial army, led by the son of the late great general Xu Da, named Xu Huizi, handed the Yan army a painful defeat at the Battle of Mount Qimeng. Napoleon Bonaparte rose from obscurity to become the most powerful and significant figure in modern history. Over 200 years after his death, people are still debating his legacy. He was a man of contradictions, a tyrant and a reformer, a liberator and an oppressor, a revolutionary and a reactionary. His biography reads like a novel, and his influence is almost beyond measure. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast, and every month I delve into the turbulent life and times of one of the greatest characters

in history, and explore the world that shaped him in all its glory and tragedy. It's a story of great battles and campaigns, political intrigue, and massive social and economic change, but it's also a story about people, populated with remarkable characters. I hope you'll join me as I examine this fascinating era of history. Find The Age of Napoleon wherever you get your podcasts. With the summer heat setting in, to which Yen's northern troops were ill-accustomed, it was suggested that the force retreat north. But the prince, now so close to his final objective, rejected the idea and insisted that they press on to victory here and now. Nevertheless, rumors reached Nanjing and the Jianwan Emperor that the Prince of Yan had

retreated back to the cooler climes of Beiping, and apparently believing the reports, ordered the majority of the Ming armies north of the Yangtze River to be recalled back to the capital itself. Hak Lam Chan writes, The Prince of Yan's forces then overcame Xiangyang's defense on the Huai River on 7 June, and, after skirting the strongly fortified cities of Fengyang near the Huai River and Huai'an on the Grand Canal near Lake Hongzi, moved down the Huai River with lightning speed, capturing Yangzhou on 17 June. On the 1st of July, the Prince's army was stopped by Sheng Yong's navy at Puzi Kou, across the Yangzi River from Nanjing. Two days later, the Assistant Chief

Commissioner Chen Xuan, who was in command of the river fleet, defected to the Prince, whereupon his troops gained the means to cross the Yangtze. They quickly did so, and reached the outskirts of Nanjing unopposed. Yeah, when the commander of your capital defense navy just up and defects along with a sizable portion of the navy, you can probably take that as a sign that the winds of change are blowing rather forcefully and not in your favor. Through all this, it must be said, the situation in the Imperial Palace was nothing less than bedlam. The Emperor's advisors absolutely could not agree on a unified war strategy, and had split mid-war into feuding factions. Qi Tai and Huang Zicheng, who'd been fired and then

rehired and then fired again and then rehired again and so on, every time the latest battle reports showed the war going one way or the other, were the leaders of the Nanjing Must Be Our Last Stand Defended at All Costs Party. While guys like the disgraced and down-but-not-yet-totally-out Li Jinglong and another minister named Ru Chang had by this time tucked tail and insisted that suing for peace and hammering out a negotiated settlement with the prince was the only way out of this situation. Jianwen listened to Jinglong, and so dispatched him and Zhu Hui to exit the capital and conduct a peace mission to Zhu Di and his army massed just outside. The Prince of Yan, tasting blood, was in no mood for any such

peace terms, and sent the envoy mission packing right on back to Nanjing as nothing more than a failed last-ditch effort. The siege of Nanjing would soon commence, and it was going to be one epic, drawn-out, bloody struggle for the ages. Or so it seemed. Because though we don't know exactly what was said, or how it went down, or exactly what was agreed with and with whom, it would appear that Li Jinglong and Zhu Hui had worked out some kind of alternative arrangement, either directly with the Prince of Yan, or maybe even just among themselves and hoping that it would buy them their lives and positions once this war was over. In any event, just five

days after returning to the capital, Li Jinglong and Zhu Hui, who just so happened to be the garrison commander of the Nanjing Wall's Jintuan Gate, um, oops, forgot to close and lock the gate on July 13th, 1403. And wouldn't you know it, the Prince of Yen and his whole army just so happened to be right there, waiting, it seemed, for the gate to magically swing open of its own accord. Funny how that works, huh? It was by this point all over but the crying and the dying. But the city defenders sought to make a show of themselves anyway, as the army of Yen poured into the capital's streets,

and commenced with street-to-street fighting as they advanced toward the imperial city. In the course of the bloody melee, the palace itself was somehow set ablaze, by whom, and whether purposeful or accidental, is unknown. When the battle had been won and the flames in the Forbidden City guttered out at last, from the wreckage were dragged three bodies, charred beyond recognition.

Beyond recognition, that is, by everyone except Zhu Di, the Prince of Yan. Using his superhuman, princely vision, he was able to tell that the barbecued skeletons were none other than his dear, poor nephew, Jian Wen, along with his wife, the Empress Ma, and his eldest son and heir, Crown Prince Zhu Wenkui. Alas, what a pity. The whole family line just up and gone, and in just such a tragic accident, with no one to blame. Certainly not the prince, who had fought his way here after all so long and so hard, simply to do his duty and rescue the emperor from his treacherous advisors. What a shame. What a shame. But then, um, who would that make the next in line for the imperial throne? Oh, the Prince of Yen, was it? Why, what a crazy random happenstance. As luck would have it, there was one surviving member of the imperial family

found left alive, the two-year-old Prince Zhu Wengui, who was quickly shuffled off into protective custody. You know, for his protection. To a farm, upstate, where he can run and play all day long with the other princes. Incidentally, he wouldn't see the light of day again until he was 56. You know, for his protection. Were those corpses really those of the royal family? It's certainly possible, and it's certainly the official narrative, as otherwise Judy couldn't possibly have had any legal right to take the throne. But rumors and whispers sprang up immediately that it actually wasn't the emperor and his family dragged smoking from the palace, but just some random bodies. Instead, the rumors insisted, Jianwen actually had managed to spirit himself and his son and wife out of the capital through underground tunnels just before it fell, and would thereafter live in secret as a Buddhist monk. In time, these rumors would, as they tend to do, spread and grow into fanciful tales and legends

that he, and later his descendants, were just waiting in the wings, ready for just the right moment to swoop back in and reclaim their rightful place as the dynastic head. Though, in retrospect, rather obviously fictional, they came to reflect not only the popular support and sympathy with Jianwen's reign and the reforms that he'd sought to establish before such efforts were prematurely aborted by the Yan Rebellion, but also the, quote, suppressed outrage against the injustices of the Yongle Emperor, resentment of his harsh policies,

and rejection of his pretensions to legitimate succession, end quote. Zhenwen, in his own sad way, became for a time almost an Arthurian figure in early Ming popular culture, the once and future king. In any event, an official, if rushed and largely perfunctory, state funeral was held for the charred bodies, whoever they might have been. They were draped in official robes and raiments, and given all imperial honors in order to confirm that officially, yes, they were definitely Jin-won and his family, and yes, he was definitely very dead. Moving on, I said, moving on. And then we get to all the expected ceremonial rigmarole. The following day, Judy's supporters all approached their lord and took turns begging and pleading with him time and again over the course of the next several days that it simply must be he who takes the throne.

And of course, after ritually declining it a number of times, he finally, oh so reluctantly, agreed to take on the heavy burden that he totally didn't want and absolutely hadn't been seeking his entire life. As such, on June 17th, 1403, the Prince of Yan formally ascended to the throne, but not as the successor to his dear nephew Jianwen. No, Jianwen hadn't really ever deserved to be emperor, and you see, he'd never really been good enough at it to earn it. Heck, he hadn't even been given a proper posthumous title. Who forgets to do that? Oh, Zhu Di had forgotten to do that? Ah, well, too late now. No use living in the past. So instead, what we're gonna do is do a little thing I like to call the old do-over.

We're all going to close our eyes and pretend like those couple of years of what's-his-face just never happened. Ready? One, two, three, poof, they're gone. Second year of the Gen 1 era, what's that? Reforms never happened. Policies, documents, and records? Destroy them. Not needed. Because, see, all the policies are just like how dear old dad left them. Now, see, this is the 35th year of the Hongwu era.

I mean, come on, guys. Get with the times. And then, at the beginning of the next year, well, we've already got a super awesome new era title all ready to go for the third, I mean, second Ming Emperor. Judy's gonna make this time on the throne a super fun, happy time. So he's decided to go with Yongle, the era of eternal joy. Doesn't that sound like just so much fun? Where we're going to leave off today, then, is with a taste of the super happy fun times that the Yongle Emperor is going to have in store for us going forward. Specifically, regarding the fates of those naughty bad ministers who forced little what's-his-name to make Zhu Di wage that unfortunate war. Yeah, it was totally their fault. And they should

be punished, just like Dad used to do. Those who are guilty, he stated, I do not dare pardon. Those who are innocent, I do not dare punish, end quote. That seems totally fair. Ministers Qi Tai and Huang Zicheng therefore faced, that's right, horrible execution by being cut in half at the waist, plus the knowledge nine levels of their extended families would likewise be executed and or enslaved as they all shared in the offender's guilt. Oh yeah, and then all their works and publications would be gathered up and destroyed, and thereafter, any remaining copies permanently banned under pain of death. Bye, guys! But then it was time for the true main event. The widely regarded as incorruptible and steadfastly moral minister, Fang Xiaoru, was then summoned to the Emperor's Court. Unlike Qi and Huang,

Zhu Di held no animus against Fang, nor felt him responsible for the Court's poor decisions that had led to this unfortunate outcome. Instead, he wished for the eminent academician to effectively sign off on the legitimacy of the new sovereign's seizure of power and new reign by having him draft the formal declaration that would announce that he had brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to his new empire. And a sweet new era name to boot, don't forget that. From his perch atop the imperial throne, Judy sensed that Fong might be still a little miffed at the sudden changing of bosses. And so he patiently explained that he'd only left his home in Beiping

and intervened in courtly affairs because his young nephew had been ill-advised by other family members and by unscrupulous officials who just, you better believe, are going to get what's coming to them. And of which Fang certainly wasn't one. Right, Fang? You're not one of them, right? He went on, drawing a historical parallel between his own position now and that of the legendary Duke Wen of Zhou, who 2,400 years prior had upon the death of his elder brother, the founding king of Zhou, Wu,

safeguarded the young heir, King Chang, against the evil machinations of the three guards of other envious princes, Shang loyalists, and other dissident elements against the Zhou hegemony. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Zhu Di was just like the Duke of Zhou. Surely Fang Xiaoru understood that, right? Fang, however, pointed at the giant trumpeting elephant in the room. Yeah, okay, so you are the Duke of Zhou protecting King Cheng. So if that parallel is accurate, where is King Cheng? I.e., what happened to the Jianwan Emperor? With that single statement,

Fang had shown that he clearly was not with the program, and had absolutely no intention to get with the program. Fong and his stupid little morals were, like all those other haters and doubters, getting in the way. Is that how you want to play it? You want your whole family to nine levels to go down with you? Play ball, Fang. Last chance. To which Xiaoru fatefully spat back like a stone cold badass. Save your breath trying to scare me with the nine exterminations. Hell, just make it ten. And so, Zhu Di did. In what was the only case in Chinese history of its kind,

the new monarch carved out a special exception to the law just for Fang Xiaoru and his annoying, lippy mouth. His entire family would be executed with him, along with their wives. And then, as per his own sarcastic little demand, the tenth group as well, consisting of all his students and peers, to boot. Thanks a bunch, Teach. In total, it's written that some 873 people were murdered as a part of Fang's punishment. The last one to die before Fang himself was his own brother, and Xiaoru was forced to watch. And then it was Fang's punishment. The last one to die before Fang himself was his own brother, and Xiaoru was forced to watch. And then it was Fang's turn. No swift death like the rest of them, no mere decapitation. For him, it would be the old waste chop. Now, fair warning here, this last part is

equally grisly and literally death metal. And while it's really hard to imagine how it could possibly be true, given the physics and mechanics of the torturous death that's about to happen, I'd be remiss if I didn't include it in the final stanza of this story. So, having been totally cut in half at the waist, Fang Xiaoru's, uh, torso, is said to have lived long enough to dip his finger in his own pooling blood on the floor, and as the emperor watched, scrawled something on the floor before finally succumbing. Upon inspection, he'd written in his own blood a single but complete character,

and quite a complex one at that, weighing in at 16 brush, or in this case, finger strokes. Tuan, which, usurper. To the very last, he'd stuck to his guns and remained a defiant, lippy, thoroughly obnoxious badass in true Confucian tradition. Though I'm sure his family and friends hardly thanked him for it on the other side. Well, on that note of eternal happiness, we'll leave off for today.

Next time, we'll get more fully into the third, I mean second, Emperor of Great Ming's reign, and oh, what an eternally joyous time it's going to be. Thanks for listening. when the work to rebuild the nation after that war was over turned into a struggle to guarantee liberty and justice for all Americans. I'm Tracy. And I'm Rich. And we want to invite you to join us as we take an in-depth look at this pivotal era in American history. Look for The Civil War and Reconstruction wherever you find your podcasts.