Chapter 83: Hand-in-Hand, Teaching Old Zhu to Spread Rumors

War is the art of deception!
The emperor came from the battlefield; naturally, he was well-versed in these tactics.
When dealing with enemies, there is no such thing as excessive measures; spreading rumors is a perfectly normal practice.
But Zhang Yi's application of such methods to the "common people" was a blind spot in Zhu's thinking.
He was the emperor—everything under heaven belonged to him. If a ruler wished to issue a command, why take the winding path of trickery instead of the grand road of righteousness?
Yet, on second thought, in the eyes of the people across the land—even those in Wu, who had lived under Zhu's rule for years—Ming was still not a dynasty that had firmly rooted itself.
As long as the mighty army of Koke Temur remained in Taiyuan, and the Yuan capital still stood in the north,
No matter how much suffering this dynasty brought to the Han people, habitually they still regarded it as the legitimate regime.
At the very least, Zhu had to prove that he would not vanish like the Red Turbans, Chen Youliang, or Zhang Shicheng, before he could think of establishing his own authority as monarch.
“So it turns out, in the eyes of the people, I am still not a true sovereign…”
Zhu Yuanzhang sighed inwardly, but aloud he asked:
“Tell me then, how do people in the future make use of this ‘science of communication’? If you were emperor, what would you do?”
Zhu Yuanzhang was not angered by Zhang Yi exposing a harsh reality. Others lacked faith in Ming and its northern campaign, but as emperor he firmly believed that Xu Da and Chang Yuchun would deliver the results he desired; besides, Zhang Yi had recited knowledge of the future for him, so he had no reason to doubt himself now.
But the problem was real: the current Ming still lacked the credibility to convince people it was the legitimate future dynasty.
If there is a problem, it must be solved.
Zhu changed his attitude, no longer obsessing over the distinction between the path of kings and the art of deception.
“In the process of communication, why do rumors spread more easily than the truth?”
Zhang Yi posed a question to all present—a simple question, but it left everyone at a loss for words.
Each had their own answer in mind, yet none could speak it aloud at the moment.
“In the ‘Great Outline’ of Xunzi, it is said: ‘A rolling pellet stops at a hollow, a rumor stops at the wise.’
In this world, those who grasp the truth are always few. The sages sought to educate the people, attempting to impart what they believed to be truth to the masses.
But the masses are dull; not everyone can be a sage. The ignorant are easily swayed by rumors,
Because rumors are what the people themselves wish to believe…”
“What the people wish to believe…?”
Zhu Biao was bewildered by Zhang Yi’s heretical theories. “Is it not better to know the truth?”
“Let me give you an example, brother. Suppose your father arranges a marriage for you, and you have never met your future wife.
Then two people come before you—one says your betrothed is as beautiful as a flower, the other says she is ugly as a demon. You have no way to verify their claims. Which do you prefer to believe?”
Zhu Biao thought for a moment and replied helplessly, “Since I cannot verify the truth, naturally I would prefer to believe my wife is beautiful as a flower.”
“The people are the same. Since they lack the ability to discern the truth, they would rather hear what pleases them.
For example, if I say the emperor is dignified and handsome, people think that is as it should be. But if I say the emperor has a face shaped like a shoehorn, then it becomes an amusing topic for gossip…”
Can we just let the shoehorn face pass?
Zhu Yuanzhang’s forehead was already throbbing with veins; the others sweated nervously for Zhang Yi, but he remained oblivious.
“So, what the people enjoy hearing—what makes things entertaining—is more important than the truth. Saying what the people wish to believe is precisely why rumors spread better than facts. Besides entertainment, there is another element that drives rumor: anxiety…”
Zhang Yi’s words were not hard to understand, and Zhu Yuanzhang grasped them instantly.
He gazed deeply at Zhang Yi; this fellow’s theories on communication were too dangerous. Ancient people knew nothing of psychology or communication studies, but what Zhang Yi said touched vaguely on the subtle arts of imperial rule.
Zhu’s feelings toward Zhang Yi were complex and conflicted.
Zhang Yi continued:
“The emperor’s plan to use Dragon and Tiger Mountain is a shallow form of rumor-mongering. The truth is irrelevant; the addition of mystical elements from Dragon and Tiger Mountain creates a point of interest. Yet the emperor, being who he is, cannot go too far with his methods. Thus, though he uses Dragon and Tiger Mountain, the court’s approach remains essentially didactic.
Didactic methods face the problem of dissemination costs—some will ignore the message because of these costs.
So if it were me, I would further reduce those costs, making the news more entertaining or more anxiety-inducing…”
“What kind of speech spreads best? Contradiction, conflict, anxiety… So we need to fabricate a story. Sending the immortals from Dragon and Tiger Mountain to rid Yangzhou of plague is too monotonous—add some conflict.
For example, local officials pay lip service but act against imperial orders; the people distrust the court and resist. Or find a scholar with local influence to oppose it, best if he curses my father to his face…
Then, we use facts to slap him down, completing a satisfying cycle of ridicule and vindication—would that not be more entertaining?”
Apart from Zhu Yuanzhang, the others were dumbfounded by Zhang Yi’s outrageous ideas. Was such a thing even possible?
Zhang Yi went on:
“Or we could weave a story—amid the plague, insert a romance between a talented scholar and a beautiful lady. The main plot deals with the epidemic, but the backdrop is disaster; through such vignettes, the method of vaccination and its life-saving potential can be spread. Would that not work as well?”
“Or, create anxiety: exaggerate the severity of the epidemic, make vaccines seem scarce. Then the wise emperor sends the immortals from Dragon and Tiger Mountain to save the people from calamity—wouldn’t that appeal more to the masses than dull lectures? Such tactics have been used by sects like the White Lotus throughout history, always to great effect…”
“There are other stories we could invent, for example…”
Zhang Yi rattled off over a dozen story outlines, leaving Zhu Yuanzhang utterly astonished.
After a while, everyone looked at Zhang Yi differently; if he went out to spread rumors or lead a rebellion, he would be eminently qualified.
Zhang Zhengchang’s legs turned to jelly from fear; this fellow must never be allowed to become the celestial master. If he inherited Dragon and Tiger Mountain, the emperor would surely destroy it.
Zhu Yuanzhang’s face darkened,
The murderous intent swirling around Zhang Yi grew thicker.
Though reluctant to admit it, Zhu Yuanzhang found that Zhang Yi’s heretical theories could indeed help spread information more widely.
Rumor-mongering may be despicable, but in terms of efficiency, it far outstrips proper promotion.
Yet Zhu Yuanzhang could not agree with Zhang Yi; he only said,
“Your stories are utter nonsense, devoid of logic—no wise man would accept them!”
“I never intended them for the wise anyway. But then again, even the so-called wise cannot escape the power of rumor!”
Zhang Yi retorted!
(End of chapter)