Chapter 84: An Old Friend Bids Farewell at the Yellow Crane Tower, a Hundred Thousand Naval Troops Descend Upon Yangzhou

“Rumors come to an end before the wise, but even if the wise see through them, they cannot convince the common people. Otherwise, if preaching alone could achieve results, why would we go to the trouble of creating rumors? The truth or logic of the story is irrelevant; as long as the people enjoy hearing it, our aim is accomplished.

Furthermore, people are naturally inclined to display their knowledge. When the so-called wise spot flaws in the story, they will certainly broadcast them loudly to appear astute. Yet, their act of spreading the story is precisely what we want—they become unwitting agents of dissemination. No one listens to their admonishments anyway, so why should we care?”

With these words, Zhang Yi had captured the mentality of those self-proclaimed wise men perfectly. Zhu Yuanzhang considered it and had to agree.

He had been fixated on the logic and credibility of the story, but that was precisely what mattered least in a rumor.

The act of spreading is the meaning itself.

Whether the story is true or false, even if exposed as a fabrication, it doesn’t matter.

There is but one purpose behind spreading these tales: to deliver a message to the people in a way they can accept.

The court is doing something, and this thing brings real benefits to the populace.

Whether the benefit is real, as long as the people accept the smallpox vaccination, they will experience it themselves.

Grateful for the benefit, the people will naturally feel indebted to the court and the emperor.

“How exactly should this be done? Surely you can’t have the emperor summon local officials to cooperate, or order a great scholar to play the antagonist?”

Zhang Yi smiled.

“There’s no need for that—a story is just a story, a rumor is just a rumor...

If I were to claim the magistrate of Shangyuan County was beaten to death by his wife yesterday, would you go there to verify? Of course not. Even if one in a hundred did, would it affect the spread at all?”

Zhu Yuanzhang: ...

This young man made excellent points. Another emperor might have looked down on Zhang Yi’s methods, but Zhu Yuanzhang was different.

Deep down, he did not mind such means.

After all, he’d done things like setting up secret monitors on officials—he and Zhang Yi were hardly in a position to judge each other.

Zhang Yi continued:

“We need only send people into taverns and teahouses, disguised as all sorts, to spread the rumors. If manpower is short, we can bribe local ruffians to do it.

In fact, this way the court’s involvement in propaganda is even less visible. There’s no need to worry about loss of prestige, since the court’s connection to these rumors is nonexistent.

The court just needs to proceed as planned. Even if the people realize these are rumors, what does it matter to the court?”

“But after all, they are still rumors...” Zhang Zhengchang couldn’t help but interject.

“Does it matter? If public opinion is a blade, it depends where it’s pointed. People die of plague every day in Great Ming; if the court spreads the vaccination method one day sooner, countless lives can be saved. What harm does the rumor itself cause? We’re simply using the wrong method to spread the right message—is that so wrong?”

Zhang Yi finished and laughed.

“Besides, we’re only chatting here. The one in the palace can’t hear us, anyway!”

Zhang Zhengchang: ...

Zhang Yuchu: ...

Zhu Biao: ...

“What’s interesting is that, in later generations, people who systematically spread rumors are called ‘water armies’...

Such manipulation of public opinion by a water army is considered an advanced tactic, as Sun Tzu said: ‘The highest form of warfare is to subdue the enemy through strategy.’ In the future, this will be called cognitive warfare...

The significance of cognitive warfare goes far beyond what you imagine!”

Zhang Yi hinted at something deeper but did not elaborate, yet Zhu Yuanzhang seemed to have grasped part of it.

“Water army? Cognitive warfare?”

Hearing this, Zhu Yuanzhang laughed. If this sort of publicity is understood as combat, he seemed to have mastered Zhang Yi’s technique!

Is so-called cognitive warfare a new form of battle in the future? But there’s nothing truly new under the sun; all its theoretical roots are just what the ancients practiced.

The matter passed for Zhang Yi, but Zhu Yuanzhang quietly took it to heart.

He didn’t dwell further on the topic, instead pulling out a copied manuscript and handing it to Zhang Zhengchang.

“Your uncle copied a copy of ‘One Hundred Thousand Whys’ from your father. It’s quite entertaining—I stayed up all night reading it... By the way, what’s this?”

Old Zhu handed a drawing to Zhang Yi.

“Oh!”

Even Zhang Zhengchang had never seen this picture before. They crowded around, and were all amazed by Zhang Yi’s portrait.

It wasn’t that Zhang Yi’s skill was extraordinary, but rather that they had never seen this style of drawing before.

Naturally, that was to be expected—after all, the prototype of the pencil wouldn’t be invented for another two hundred years, let alone the style of drawing that arose after its invention.

“What technique is this?” Zhang Yuchu asked as well.

“Sketching,” Zhang Yi answered honestly.

“It’s so lifelike, father—it looks just like you!”

Zhang Yuchu spoke for everyone. Zhang Yi’s drawing might not have much ‘artistic conception,’ but his portrait of Zhang Zhengchang was so realistic it was almost indistinguishable from the man himself.

Such technique was unheard of in the Chinese painting styles popular at that time.

“I want one, too!” Zhang Yuchu eagerly raised his hand, making his request first.

To such requests, Zhang Yi naturally did not refuse.

Afterwards, both Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhu Biao became interested.

With the remaining pencils, Zhang Yi drew a portrait for each of them.

His artistic skill was average, but in the realm of sketching, no one in all of Ming could match him.

Using the interplay of light and shadow, he brought his subjects to vivid life on paper.

Everyone who received their portrait was full of praise.

“Though your technique may not rival the great masters, and lacks in subtlety, it could well found its own school...”

With his wish fulfilled, Zhu Yuanzhang took his leave.

Once outside and seated in his carriage, he fell into deep thought.

“Water army...”

“Father, are you still pondering Zhang Yi’s cognitive warfare?”

“Indeed. Zhang Yi’s method has merits—I plan to try it...”

Applying cognitive warfare internally was a novel experience for Zhu Yuanzhang. If used well, it could open up entirely new avenues for him.

Whether it would prove as effective as Zhang Yi claimed remained to be seen.

“In time, have Gao Jianxian take men to Yangzhou and try this method! I may not have a hundred thousand water troops, but if Yangzhou works out, perhaps I can form my own!”

“Father, why do you care so much for Zhang Yi’s methods...?”

Zhu Yuanzhang only gave Zhu Biao a deep look in response.

When Zhang Yi spoke of cognitive warfare, Zhu Yuanzhang was reminded of something: the power of dissemination...

Before Zhang Yi’s talk of ‘water armies’ and cognitive warfare, this power lay firmly in the hands of the literati and scholars.

Even an emperor could not easily seize it!

But perhaps, with this so-called water army tactic, the emperor might reclaim some advantage in the struggle with the scholars for control over public discourse!

Today I’m taking leave to sweep the tombs, so I can’t update with ten thousand words as usual—there will be three chapters, seven to eight thousand words in total. Later chapters will be three updates of nine to ten thousand words. That’s the most I can manage as a part-time author (on bad days, I guarantee at least two updates of six thousand words; if things go well, I can get up to twelve thousand). If you enjoy it, please vote for the recommendation or monthly ticket!

(End of chapter)