A Mentor’s Return to Obscurity

In the eleventh lunar month of 1368, Qingtian County was drowning in rain. The downpour had begun when Liu Bowen—once the revered strategist who guided Zhu Yuanzhang to found the Ming Dynasty—returned to his hometown. At first, his arrival was met with bouquets and applause, but soon, the flowers rotted in the damp, and the applause, like the drizzle, faded into silence.

Liu’s family believed he had erred by publicly announcing his resignation from court. But the aging scholar brushed off their concerns. “One day,” he insisted, “the world will recognize the wisdom of my choice—to serve Zhu Yuanzhang for eight years, achieve greatness, and then retire without demanding rewards.”

This was not the whole truth. Beneath his stoic facade, Liu Bowen grappled with a bitter realization: he had been discarded. Whether receiving deferential local officials or lingering at his late wife’s grave, Zhu Yuanzhang’s “grotesque face” haunted him—a specter from their first meeting eight years prior that would torment him until death.

The Unraveling of a Partnership

Their bond, forged in 1360, had been inseparable. Liu had been Zhu’s mentor, shaping his intellect like a kindergarten teacher guiding a child. But by 1368, Zhu no longer needed instruction. The emperor could “walk upright,” and Liu’s role had expired.

In Qingtian, Liu oscillated between resentment and self-doubt. Was he abandoned? Or had he simply outlived his usefulness? His poetry revealed a body in ruin: trembling limbs, failing eyesight, and lungs “heaving like tidal waves.” Yet his mind still burned with unfulfilled dreams: Better to close my door, refuse guests, and drink in solitude.

Illness had long shadowed him. In 1330, while studying esoteric texts at Stone Gate Cave, he described a mysterious fatigue that nearly drove him to Taoism. In 1353, imprisoned by the Yuan Dynasty, rage triggered a hemorrhage—possibly hepatitis, which may have killed him later. Another affliction, “phlegm-qì disease” (likely minor strokes), struck during his绍兴 confinement.

The Emperor’s Calculated Summons

That winter, observers would have seen a gaunt Liu Bowen—yellow-eyed, wrinkled, and reclusive—sitting motionless at dusk, staring into the rain. When a passerby asked what he awaited, Liu muttered: Waiting. The question (For what?) went unanswered as he gazed at the storm-darkened horizon.

Decades later, historians claimed Liu was waiting for Zhu Yuanzhang. Their evidence? An imperial decree that arrived in November 1368. The Edict with Imperial Seal was a masterclass in manipulation:

1. Guilt-Tripping: Zhu framed Liu’s absence as betrayal—You shared my hardships but left in prosperity. Do you want the world to think me ungrateful?
2. Selective Praise: He listed Liu’s victories (Wuchang,鄱阳湖) but prefaced them with “under my leadership”—erasing Liu’s agency.
3. Veiled Threat: Return now, lest history remember you as disloyal.

The subtext was clear: Your achievements are mine. You are a subordinate, not a teacher.

The Final Journey

In December 1368, Liu boarded a northbound ship to Nanjing. As temperatures dropped, so did his spirits. A stop in Suzhou—where Zhu had razed the city after defeating rival Zhang Shicheng—filled him with dread. Would he, too, be discarded like rubble?

Nanjing’s walls loomed like a underworld fortress. Yet upon arrival, Zhu showered him with hollow honors: posthumous titles for his ancestors, a lavish banquet, and a new wife (the young Lady Zhang). Each “kindness” underscored Liu’s diminished status.

The Poisoned Chalice: Liu’s Role in the Chancellor Debate

Zhu soon tested Liu’s loyalty by soliciting his opinion on replacing Chancellor Li Shanchang. Three candidates emerged:

1. Yang Xian (spymaster): Skilled but paranoid—a knife in the dark, not a leader.
2. Wang Guangyang (strategist): Ten of him couldn’t match Yang Xian.
3. Hu Weiyong (bureaucrat): Would wreck the state chariot.

When Zhu hinted Liu himself might qualify, the old strategist demurred: I’m too inflexible for administration. Privately, he knew the truth—Zhu would never elevate a former mentor.

The parallels to春秋’s Chancellor Guan Zhong were stark. Like Guan, Liu saw the fatal flaws in each candidate. But unlike齐桓公, Zhu ignored the warnings, appointing Hu Weiyong—a decision that would later trigger purges.

Legacy: The Rain Never Ends

Liu Bowen died in 1375, likely poisoned by Hu. His tragedy encapsulates the Confucian intellectual’s dilemma: to guide a ruler is to sow the seeds of one’s obsolescence. Zhu, ever the tactician, turned mentorship into servitude.

Yet history remembers Liu differently—as the man who read the heavens but couldn’t escape the storm of imperial ingratitude. In Qingtian’s eternal drizzle, his defiance lingers: Waiting. Not for favor, but for vindication.