The Yuan Dynasty’s Conquest and the Fate of the “Southerners”

The Mongol-led Yuan Dynasty (1271–1368) marked a turbulent chapter in Chinese history, particularly for the conquered Southern Chinese, or “Nanren” (南人). After the fall of the Southern Song Dynasty in 1276, the Mongols, under Kublai Khan, established a rigid social hierarchy that placed Southern Chinese at the bottom, below Mongols, Semu (色目人, Central Asian allies), and Northern Chinese. This systemic discrimination was not merely bureaucratic but deeply personal, shaping daily life in ways that bred resentment and resistance.

Southerners were treated as little more than sources of taxation, stripped of dignity by laws that valued their lives shockingly low—compensation for killing a Southerner was set at the price of a donkey, while killing a Mongol meant execution. Restrictions on hunting, martial arts, and even nighttime movement crippled livelihoods and autonomy. Worse still, the “baojia” system placed overseers—often Semu officials—in Southern villages, granting them unchecked power over local households, including claims to brides’ “first nights,” a practice that defied Confucian morality.

Rebellion and Retaliation: The Cycle of Violence

Resistance flared across the South. From 1276 onward, over 200 uprisings erupted, though many were less about liberation than opportunism. Figures like Huang Hua in Fujian (1278) and Zhong Mingliang in Guangdong (1288) declared themselves emperors, only to fold under Mongol pressure or betray their own causes. These rebellions, often brutal toward fellow Southerners, revealed a fractured resistance.

Kublai Khan initially tried conciliation, ordering troops to curb abuses, but enforcement was lax. As rebellions persisted, the Yuan court retaliated with harsher laws, deepening Southerners’ suffering. Scholar Liu Yue’s lament to young Liu Bowen (later the famed strategist Liu Ji) captured this bitterness: “The Mongols have done us no good—defying them is no sin.” Yet Liu Bowen’s skepticism hinted at a nuanced reality; not all regions faced equal oppression, and some, like his village, thrived quietly.

Cultural Suppression and Social Fractures

The Yuan policy extended beyond economics into cultural erasure. Banning martial arts and communal hunting disrupted traditions, while nighttime curfews isolated communities. The baojia system’s abuses—especially the alleged “first night” rule—though likely exaggerated (given Mongolia’s small population), became symbols of humiliation. Confucian scholars like Liu Yue framed these acts as existential threats to Southern identity, fueling a narrative of righteous resistance.

Yet the Mongols’ grip was uneven. Urban centers like Hangzhou saw relative prosperity, while rural areas bore the brunt. This disparity bred conflicting perspectives: some saw the Yuan as irredeemable tyrants; others, like Liu Bowen’s later writings suggested, recognized complexity in governance.

Legacy: From Oppression to the Ming Dynasty’s Rebirth

The Yuan’s collapse in 1368 was hastened by Southern discontent, channeled by rebels like Zhu Yuanzhang, founder of the Ming Dynasty. The Ming’s anti-Mongol rhetoric drew on this era’s grievances, enshrining the “Nanren” struggle in national memory. Yet the Yuan period also spurred cultural synthesis—Mongol administrative innovations, like provincial systems, endured, and cross-regional trade expanded.

Liu Bowen’s journey from a questioning youth to a Ming architect mirrored this transition. His education in Kuacheng (modern Lishui) exposed him to Confucian classics and military strategy, shaping his pragmatic statesmanship. The “Spring and Autumn Annals” (《春秋》), with its coded moral judgments, trained him in the art of governance—lessons he later applied to unify a fractured China.

Conclusion: History’s Echoes

The Yuan era’s tensions—between conqueror and conquered, unity and fragmentation—resonate in modern discussions of identity and power. Liu Yue’s grievances and Liu Bowen’s critical eye remind us that history is rarely binary; oppression and resistance are intertwined, shaped by perspective. As Liu Bowen learned, truth often lies beyond one’s village, in the wider world’s contradictions. The Yuan’s legacy, then, is not just one of suffering but of resilience—a testament to how societies rebuild, and remember.